


The Children's Hour

by SynchronicityRose



Series: The Maze Runner: Into The Storm [2]
Category: The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Adventure/Drama, Apocalypse, Book/Movie 2: The Scorch Trials, Book/Movie 3: The Death Cure, Canon-Typical Violence, Cranks (Maze Runner), Dark, Disturbing Themes, F/M, Heterochromia, M/M, Minor Canonical Character(s), Non-Canon Relationship, Slow Burn, Survival Horror, Team Feels, The Death Cure Spoilers, The Scorch Trials Spoilers, WICKED | WCKD Is Not Good
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2019-05-06
Packaged: 2019-08-26 08:51:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 23
Words: 26,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16678444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SynchronicityRose/pseuds/SynchronicityRose
Summary: It wasn't a haven. It was WICKED. It's always WICKED. Trapped in The Scorch and seperated from their friends, Minho and Elliot push through the storm all the while struggling with personal feelings. Tensions will run just as they. Will Paradise never be in sight? Slight AU from book/movie canon.





	1. Prologue

Bile rose up in his throat, when he wakes. His heart hammered against his chest. The room around him is dark, without a single source of light. It takes a total of two minutes, for him to realize he's no longer in The Glade. No longer a tool for WICKED. He's free. They're free.

The warm pillow and food from earlier, is proof of that. He even ate meat, of all things.

"Can't sleep either?"

Turning his head, Elliot could see Minho beside him on a table. Hands behind his head. "No…not really. Bad dreams, again." He sighed.

"Have 'em to," Minho muttered. "I'm sorry…about-."

"Don't be. It's not your fault. No ones to blame."

No one but WICKED that is.

He laid his head against his chest, finding Minho's heartbeat soothing. This wasn't anything unusual for them. Even within The Glade. Surrounded by other boys they laid beside each-other, in the same hammock. Minho clearly didn't mind it. In fact, one could say he didn't shuckin' care what others felt.

"What do you think about it here?" Elliot found himself asking.

"Seems pretty cool. We've got food. Shelter from the elements, it feels like a bad nightmare. And, that we're finally awake."

"Nightmare's a good word. But. The Glade wasn't all bad."

Minho gave him an incredulous look. Eyebrow raised. "Have you shuckin' lost it?"

"I mean. I got to meet you." Elliot retorted, rolling his eyes at the remark. "Slinthead."

He watched Minho's lips curve into a grin. "Glad you haven't lost, your Glader heritage. Still sounds funny as hell, coming from you."

They bantered most of that night, before sleep came again. And Elliot did not have a single nightmare, when at Minho's side.

 

 


	2. Like A Dream

His back rests against cooled, tiled walls. Water flows down his shoulders creating a pool of dirt and grime, around the shower's ring. Elliot could hear shouts from Minho and their other friends, from a few rows down. While he appreciated their company he found this, more to be a private moment with only himself.

Each time his eyes close, he could see Chuck as he was when they escaped. His pale, lifeless face. Glazed over eyes. It's an image that cannot be shaken. On the helicopter over, he knew Minho was annoyed when he wouldn't look his way.

He's the type who knows how to brush things aside. Elliot couldn't.

After he dressed and dried his hair, he forced a smile when he saw the others. They were all getting checked on by doctors and such.

Teresa's in a separate area, curtains closed. "There you are, thought you drowned." Newt's voice jarred him from his thoughts. Rubbing his bruised arm. "Small veins, it doesn't hurt that bad though."

"Hope not, can't say I'm thrilled about needles." He said, sitting in the chair the doctor motioned him in. "How's Edgar?"

"I think he's alright, a bit more talkative today. Question is…"

"I'm fine, Newt, really. Just tired is all." His response was too quick, Newt was certain to catch onto his lie. He's like that unfortunately. After he had been injected with vitamin B, C, and D liquids, a stethoscope had been placed over his chest. One breath in. Another out. A flinch could be seen, when his eyes were examined, for that light shining in felt all too familiar.

"Huh, never seen heterochromia patients before. That's a pretty special trait you have, only one in six people have it, or had." The male doctor said, a smile across his face. Elliot's lips turned upwards into a small one.

**~******~**

_He's six. A boy with a chubby face with freckles, paper and crayons were placed in front. It's not a perfect piece of a drawin of course. But to the woman beside him it's as if, her son were Van Gough incarnate._

_"Elliot, I love it! Oh when your father comes home you have, to show him." He smiled at her praises, one that matched his eyes. Pleasing warm sunlight filtered in through the windows, of their little house. Horns honked and sirens blared, a city. That's what it sounded like._

_"I hope he will, I worked real hard on it. Hey, mom, do ya think he can come over today?" She saw the way his eyes sparkled, to mention the new boy from his Choir class._

_"I don't see why not, I'll have some cookies in soon."_

_"Can I help this time? Please?"_

_"You'll always be, my little helper Elliot."_

**~******~**

He almost does not wish to wake. The dream was too perfect, too real for it to be an illusion. An illusion or a memory he's still unsure. Soft snores from his fellow survivors brought him back, when his eyes opened to darkness of his room.

"Can't sleep either?" Minho asked from his top bunk.

"No…not really. Think it's an adrenaline buzz, after our escape from WICKED. Hey. Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"That this place is too good to be true? Can't lie that I'm not."

   Elliot's eyebrows furrowed in deep thought, resting his head against his warm pillow. His foot tapped to only a tune he could hear. "I thought it was just me at first. Or, maybe I'm becoming narcissistic as you are."

Minho snorted. He lowered his head to meet Elliot. "Hey, after the hell we've been through I think I've a right. Just rest up. We have a long road ahead."

As he turned over on his side, Elliot secretly hoped his dream would continue. He needed something to comfort him tonight.

The dream came once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for its shortness, faced a bit of writer's block at the time of re-writing it. Janson'll make his appearance next chapter /I know. I did not like writing his character at all/, until then.


	3. Code Black

A man wanted to see him. Not just him, but Elliot first rather. Assistant director 'Janson'. Tall and handsome. Greyish black hair. "Elliot," he began. Walking into the room where they were all given vitamins and other various, needed things deprived from.

He looked at his hand wearily, after the doctor beside him said he's all set. "My name's Janson. Please, come with me. Don't worry I just have a few questions."

His eyes shifted towards his friends. Minho especially looked cautious, still running on a treadmill. Thomas pursed his lips, but nodded. "We'll all be right here, when you get back."

Nodding back, Elliot glanced at Janson again. "…Fine. Let's go, then."

"Excellent."

Janson greets a female doctor as she walks by, making her way towards Teresa in a more private part of that treatment area. He leads Elliot down a long hallway. Into a room of metal walls and a monitor, in one ceiling corner.

"Have a seat, Elliot," he said. Watching as Elliot sat. "Now…to begin, how are you? Your mental health is our first and foremost priority. If there's anything you don't wish, to talk about, give me the word."

How did he feel? Numb. Like a soulless object. That a monster sucked all his energy, his good energy away from him.

"….Tired. Drained, more like." He responds. Watching Janson jot something down.

"I understand you lost someone very dear, to your group. I'm sorry."

Elliot nodded. Hands clasped together, in the front. "He was. One of the best Gladers, I knew. My memories were wiped, I-I couldn't…didn't know…." He exhaled slow and steady, thanking Janson for handing him a cup of water. Taking slow and easy sips. "After Alby died, things went straight to hell. There were these things, called Grievers that broke in. Destroyed our crops. Our Homestead…. Gally went berserk, after that. Shot Chuck right in his stomach…"

Janson simply listened. Spoke when needed. Elliot felt he was trustworthy enough. A good, kind man whom genuinely worried about their well-being.

"Do you have thoughts of cutting yourself? Suicide?"

"…No. I'm just tired, is all."

"You're quite close to some of the boys with you. Minho. Is that his name?"

"Yeah. We…bonded, a bit." Elliot could feel heat on his face, more so when Janson chuckled. Jotting something else down. "N-Not in the way, I mean…we were, experimenting."

"Perfectly normal for teenagers, boys especially considering you were around only them for so long. Minho cares deeply. I could see it on his face, when I approached."

"Yeah, he's very protective of everyone."

"Not just everyone, Elliot."

He blinked once. But before he could ask, Janson motioned him to leave with a guard. "If you're ever in need of someone, for whatever reason you cannot go to your friends, we've the finest doctors and psychiatrists around."

"I'll consider it. Thank you, assistant director."

**~*******~**

When he looks into the mirror, the image looks like him. But he sees otherwise. It has been three days since he's eaten anything. His face is dough like. Eyes are hollow and of a certain emptiness. Empty. Is that what he feels? As if he was sucked through a black hole, he felt nothing.

His fist is tight at his side.

_You should have been the one_

When he found Elliot on that bathroom floor, with glass shards at his feet, the mirror broken. Wrists and arms covered in scratches. Minho freaked out.

It wasn't healthy. He screamed at Elliot, until Newt rushed in fortunately. "Newt! Do you see, what the shuck….he tried to….!" He couldn't even speak.

Newt shushes him as if he's dealing with a child. Even cradling him in his arms, glaring at Minho. "Minho, stop it. Just…We need to get Eli help, now. Go and get someone, I'll stay here with him."

He soothed Elliot all that while. Minho's eyes eventually softened, as he left, to get Dr. Crawford and that Janson guy. "His wounds aren't deep, thank God," Dr. Crawford breathed out. Watching as Edgar helped bandage them, with trembling fingers. "Pulse is low…heart rate's pretty high."

"He'll be okay though. Right?" It's not a question from Minho, rather, a fact he hopes for.

Janson shook his head. A slight frown on his face. "We'll have to keep him under observation, for a while, Minho. Suicide rates are, tragically common from escaped children."

His heart sunk. Not what he expected.

 _I shouldn't have yelled at him….Shuck. That's the last thing, he needs right now. Newt's his real comfort…always has been_ Guilt at once eats him, for the rest of that day. Like a Griever devouring his friends, in The Maze.

"Stop blaming yourself, Minho," Thomas sighed. Pinching the bridge of his nose. "I just. Wish he told one of us."

"Not that easy, Tommy. It's bleedin' terrifying…kinda like. Like if a girl was knocked up, as a teen, figuring how she's 'going to tell her parents." Newt muttered. Hand enclosed tight around Edgar's, on their top bunk. Winston doesn't know what to say. He bites his lower lip, while Frypan secretly blames himself, being his old Keeper.

"Okay. We can all sit here and blame ourselves, or be there for Eli." Teresa spoke up, not a moment later. Drying her eyes, with her shirt sleeve. "All of our depression won't make him better. He needs someone, who's strong."

Heads turned Minho's way.

"…."

"C'mon man, you and Eli were buds," Winston chimed. With Edgar nodding in silent agreement. "He needs you. And-."

"If you say 'I need him', I'll break your zit covered nose." Minho muttered, ignoring his friend's eye roll.

"May be a cliché, but it's true." Teresa said. A small grin formed. "Think about it, Minho. Who did Elliot go to most?"

"Newt."

"Wrong. It was you. Always, buggin' you, man." Newt pointed out.

"When he was cold, who secretly cuddled with him thinking none of us would find out?" Thomas grinned some.

"…Me. But…ah, shuck you guys." He huffed. Scratching at his hair. "Fine. I'll…I'll see him, first thing in the morning."

Minus Edgar, who simply gave a thumbs up everyone shared collective 'atta boy' type of stuff. Clapping him on the back and shoulders.

He's been feeling weird things for Elliot no doubt. And, he knows shuckin' well, Elliot with him. As he laid in bed that night. Listening to the snores of his Gladers, he dreamt.

Of a certain boy, with hair like fire.


	4. Connections

Minho couldn't see Elliot yet. They didn't think it'd be 'healthy', for him to have anyone in right now. That he needed the space. "They took Teresa last night to…" Thomas said, as Newt gave him a pat on his back.

"She's a tough girl, I'm sure she's fine and Elliot." Newt assured. That worried look at once evaporates from Minho and Thomas.

Elliot will be fine. It became like a mantra for him. As they were getting settled, a guard came in asking for Minho. "Whatever for Shank?" He asked.

The Guard rolled his eyes. "Just get down here, kid. The boss wants to see you."

He followed the guard down a long, dimly lighted hallway. Every so often his eyes shift about when a person walked by. Hopes to catch Elliot high. Led inside that same room, Elliot went in yesterday, Minho could see Janson already at one end of the table. He slapped a file down.

"Well, I won't take too much of your time. I just wanted to ask you, after what happened back there in the Maze, are you afraid of what's out there? What lies ahead of you in the Scorch?"

"I'll tell you all, if you'll tell me where Elliot is."

He smiled in a way that reminded Minho, of a shark. "He's safe with us. Now, let me ask again. Are you afraid?"

"I'm a Runner. I've run the Maze every day for three years. I've survived the Maze and you're asking me whether I am scared of the Scorch? Well, guess what, shank. The scorch doesn't scare me."

Minho said it in a blunt way, it makes Janson grin. "Interesting…Well, thank you for your time. Branson here will escort you out."

His eyebrows raised. Following Branson. Something's wrong. This was starting, to feel too good to be true. Teresa's missing. Elliot's missing. Led out into a hallway he could hear chatter beyond the doors. Pushing them open, he's shocked to find other kids. Hundreds of them, boys and girls alike.

Many of the tables were filled, prompting him to sit with two boys. "Mind if I join you?" He asked.

The one kid nodded. "Sure. Name's Dom…"

"I'm Eric." Another answered. "What Maze are you from?"

He blinked once. Then twice, leaning forward slight. "Hang on…you guys-?" His voice trailed off, as Dom nodded in a grim way.

All along he thought they were the only ones. But here, they could see that's not the case. Thomas and the others joined moments later, after their 'interviews' were up. As they spoke, Minho turned his head. When he saw him.

Or, he thought he had. "Relax will you? We'll meet up with him." Newt assured. Edgar nodded in agreement.

"How long have you've been here?" Thomas asked Dom.

"About three days. Some of us, like him…." He nodded. Turning, they could see he had his hood pulled up over his head. Shoulders slumped. Chin resting on his folded arms. "That kid has been here the longest : almost a week. They say he was in a Maze full of girls and he was the only guy."

Minho raised a brow. "Girls?"

Eric shrugged. "Some guys have it made."

"Attention. Over here I have a list of people. You are to come forward when your name is called," In strolled Janson. He couldn't help notice the arrogance, that man held. Reading off names one after the other. "Emily," a girl from another table was called, cheers erupt around them.

"What's he doing?"

"Thank for your time. As for those who have been called, your new lives wait past this door. If you would follow me, please. Rest of you, eat up."

Dom shook his head. "Lucky bastards."

"Where are they going?"

"Those kids are taken to the other side of the facility. They say there's a farm or something, something they can use to make a new life. But those who go in there never come back out. It's a one way trip."

Thomas turned his head. And in walked Teresa, behind a clear glass window. He spotted her silky black hair instantly, among the other girls. "Teresa!" He called. Another group walked by, mostly of boys.

"Elliot-!" Minho leapt from his seat, jogging over like Thomas had.

Elliot's head snapped up. A man grabbed him by his arm, almost bruising tight. "Minho!" He shouted, putting up a little of a struggle, as he's dragged down that same hallway.

"Hey, this is a restricted area. You kids better get back in line." A guard snapped, shoving at Minho's chest.

"They're our friends. Where are you taking them?" Thomas demanded.

"You better watch it kid. They're in good hands, now sit your asses back down."

**~*******~**

So close. He was so close to Elliot, yet so far. Separated from a mere glass window. "What the hell happened back there?" Newt snapped, while Minho sat on his top bunk.

"Simple, that slinthead wouldn't let us through." Minho bit out.

"Nothing has ever been right. Not until now! These people rescued us from WICKED. They gave us proper food and a proper bed. Some of which we never had in a long time. Some even longer than others."

Thomas paced about that room. "I'm going to find out what's behind that door…" Newt threw up his arms in defeat. Edgar placed a hand on his shoulder. Shaking his head.

"No. No, I get what you're saying, Eddie…" a sigh escaped Newt's lips. Giving his hand an affectionate squeeze. "I know they're worried. Guess I'd feel that way, if they took you away."

Edgar gave him a knowing look.

As night fell, the dreams came. All of Minho's worst case scenarios, formed into a Griever. Or instead of Chuck dying, Elliot pushed him out of harm's way to be killed by Gally. They're torturing him in another scenario, while Minho watches. A scream escaped his lips. His chest rose and fell, with each intake of air.

"Just a dream…Only a dream." He breathed out. Trying to lay back down.

His heart still beat rapidly against his chest.

It was one of those dreams, you just couldn't shake off after waking up. It felt TOO real. Unnaturally real.

_Shuck…what have you done, with him?_

 


	5. Run

He had them locked in their room, after Thomas's outburst. Minho sat on one bed. Across from them Newt and Edgar rest side by side. Edgar had since fallen asleep, from Newt lightly stroking his hair.

"I think we've all gone psycho. Like those Cranks…" Minho scowled distastefully. "We're all sitting here like kids at school waiting for Rat Man to give us a lecture. I bet you we're not gonna like it- if he had anything good to say, he wouldn't need a freaking magic wall to protect him from us, would he?"

"Just slim it, man," Newt whispered. "Maybe it'll all be over. Once Tommy gets back, with Aris."

They were covering for him. He'd slipped inside a vent, with the weird kid. And they haven't been back since.

"Yeah, right," Minho retorted. "And Frypan's gonna start having babies, Winston'll get rid of his monster zits and Edgar will actually talk."

Winston pinched the bridge of his nose. Muttering 'hurry up Tom' under his breath. Suddenly, Thomas and Aris both returned. His face was a ghostly white shade. His hands shook at his sides. Looking frantic around. "We gotta go…"

"What happened? Thomas, what'd you guys find?" He asked.

"Bodies…frozen…they aren't dead, just…suspended. WICKED's using them for something." Thomas uttered out.

**~xxxxxx~**

_Elliot_

_Elliot_

A soft voice called to him. His eyes opened, turning his head weak to the right. Once his vision had cleared, he could see it was Minho. "Min…" his voice felt dry when he whispered, watching as things are pulled out of his arms. That oxygen mask removed from his face.

He's frozen for a moment, Elliot could see. The way his eyes are ablaze, upon noticing bruises decorating his cut up arms. "C'mon. We're getting out of here, Thomas has a plan." He hoisted him up effortlessly in his arms. Knowing he couldn't walk.

His mind was still in a fog. One minute Janson's leaning over him. And now he's in Minho's arms.

From the corner of his eye, a male doctor cowered as Newt pointed a gun at him. Filled with electrical currents. "You won't get away with this! J-Janson'll-."

"Oh stuff it." Newt snapped. "Go, go!"

Stand down! There's no escape!" Janson hollered outside, trying to break in.

Elliot cocked his head, to see a glass wall separating where they stood. "Minho…the glass." He let Newt take hold of Elliot, yelled for Thomas and threw a chair against it. Whatever Janson did to him, it made him want to vomit but he holds it down. He had to keep up with the others. That terrible feeling of separation from Minho again, kept his adrenaline.

The chair has no impact on the glass. "Shuck!" Minho cursed. With another chair and Thomas's aid, they threw it. Shattering the wall.

Theresa grabbed some sheets and spread them over to prevent cuts. Thomas helped her through, then Elliot, Minho, Newt, Edgar, Frypan and Winston. "Stop right there, you kids!" A guard bellowed out.

He held a loaded gun in his hands, directly at them.

Thomas looked down at the one he held, then at the guard. And fired.

An icy cold struck his bare feet, as they ran. Running's in his blood. Elliot panted as he kept up with their pace, skidding a corner. He could hear Janson and his men making chase. "Come on. Come on," Thomas slid the key card in, but access is denied.

"Thomas."

"Open this door Janson!"

"You know I can't do that Thomas. The Maze was one thing but you won't be able to survive out there in the Scorch! If the elements don't get to you, the Cranks will!" Crank. That word poured into Elliot's thoughts. As if he knew it.

His head began to pound. Thinking back to a conversation, with Chuck. About their parents. About what Minho had remembered.

"Last chance Janson," Thomas stepped forward.

"We're both on the same side here. Thomas," He looked like a Saint, the way his hands are clasped. Putting on that wholesome act. But they knew better to trust him.

"I only want what is best for you." Janson tried. His lips curve into a smirk Elliot's way. "Elliot…when you came here years ago, we were so close. What happened?"

"Wizened up. That's what." Elliot spat. Janson's smirk fell. His eyes darkened.

Just as planned, a sudden whoosh echoed around. Looking over, they could see it's Aris and Winston on the other side. Aris held a big grin on his face. "Hey guys!" Thomas at once started firing, as they piled on the other side with Janson hollering "Shut the door! Shut the main door!".

**~xxxxxx~**

A vast dessert greets the worn pair of Gladers. Night had since fallen. Gunshots and shouts from Janson's crew echo. It was hard to move through sand. Elliot pulled his shirt up a bit over his mouth, not wishing for dust and sand to get in.

Sand blurred around in a whirlwind, he could no longer see where Thomas and the others were. And he did not dare shout for them.

One hand wrapped around his shoulders. His heart pounded to his chest, when he realized it was only Minho. "Where's Thomas?!"

"No idea! Hide, just focus on hiding!"

Covered in dirt and dust they found shelter in an old, abandoned house. Sweat dripped from their faces, heads ducked beneath windows from search lights. "Son of a bitch doesn't know, when to quit…hey. You okay?"

"Sadly yes," he muttered. Answering Minho's question later. "I don't know what he gave me, but I think I'm alright now. Head's still kinda fuzzy, you know?"

The house was at least two stories. It could have been a farm house at one point, based on its design. Minho discovered a flashlight, after hitting it a few times. It shined up towards an old stair case, leading to upper bedrooms. Elliot walked across the wooden floorboards, creaking and groaning.

He caught sight of a family photo set, still on the kitchen table. Revealing a mother, her hair a dark red like his or brownish. Smiling with her arms around two children, a pair of twins. The father's in another picture. He must have taken, the previous one.

_I wonder if our family's were like that, before the world went to hell. All smiles, laughter and pictures taken…_

Upstairs Minho searched. Making certain of no one else living here, besides them of course. He could not deny that ache within his chest, to stumble across a child's bedroom. Clothes still out on the beds, as if waiting for its owner's return.

What smelt like a dead animal carcass drifted about. A smell he was used to, when Winston cut up their meat. Rotted.

Elliot couldn't see that.

Not ever.

"Coast's clear up here," he said. Coming back downstairs, into the parlor. "Elliot?"

"Just in here…" he sits by an old fire place, having finished looking through the album. Placing it on the chair's arm. "Min. You found something." The frown on his face confirmed, but Minho denied.

"You're not goin' up there, let's call it a night down here."

His eyelids betrayed him, as they drooped. Head against Minho's shoulder, they allowed sleep. Welcoming it like an old friend.


	6. No Place Like Home

When he awoke, he was still beside him. Minho's breath hitched for but a moment, as he looked upon Elliot's sleeping face. It's unlike when he is awake. A certain calmness that he has yet to see, over his features. Chest rises and falls in slow, eased motions.

For a reason he could not place, a temptation was held back to run his hands through soft locks of red. _There it's back again. That familiar sense. Like…Like I remember him. But, we've only just met_

Slowly, Minho pulled his hand away. This is exact what Alby warned him, back in The Glade. Not to become too close. _Oh but you've already failed that, Minho. You've failed, big time buddy. Dug yourself into a hole, deep_

Seeing as Elliot did not wake yet, he stayed with him like that for some moments. Watching that peaceful face, slumber away.

**~*******~**

"Well, look who decided to wake up."

His heart jumped within his chest, to find Minho looking at him, a smirk across his face. Elliot would blame his reddened cheeks from the heat floating around.

"Shut up…I was exhausted. How late is it?" he murmured. A yawn escaped, as he rubbed at his eyes.

Minho looked at his watch, tsking for it refused to cooperate this time. "Damn thing's not workin' right, I think the heat's affecting it or something."

"Sounds about that, mine's the same way. Can't get it to work, for nothing." He had it removed shortly after, setting it on the broken table in front of the couch. A wish that their friends could be here, with them. "I bet this was a nice home. Before…well, you know."

Minho shook his head. "I wouldn't get too cozy, Janson's goons are still after us, we can't stay here for long."

"I know, it's just nice for a change…a split moment of peace." Elliot cleared his throat. When he stood, it was too fast. He held onto Minho's arm, gentle when he composed himself. "I-I'm fine now…Only a little dizzy, don't know what that son of a bitch gave. But it was a strong, amount." Minho ordered him to relax, while he went to find something to sip off of. Water had been poured, into a glass.

Elliot took a slow sip, offering Minho one. He all but denied. "No, you need it more than me."

A small grin could be seen from Elliot, his head resting against the couch. "Look at you, being so generous."

"I have my moments…" dark brown eyes looked about, the house. "Man. Don't think Yahtzee's available, to pass the time. I'm only seeing books."

"A little reading never hurts y'know. And comics don't count." He said, before Minho could make that point, a chuckle escaped from Elliot after. Lightly swishing the water in his cup. "You know, this is kinda nice. Just talkin' like this."

"I guess, in a way yeah. We never spent a whole lot together, back in The Glade. We were always busy, like bees as Edgar would say." On the occasions he'd talk that is. There was a word for that, but neither could remember it well. Just like with everything else, that's blank. Minho drummed his fingers against, the couch's arm. He did not want to become too comfortable. Not just yet. "…Eli?"

Elliot lifted his head. "Yeah?" it did not tilt, nor did he arch a brow. He simply stared curiously, the latter's way.

He's hesitant. In a way that Elliot had never witnessed, nor thought for that matter could be, in Minho's personality. "What happened. With you and Gally?"

He flinched for a brief second, knowing at some point he would have to explain. His fingers curl around his cup, tapping his foot to no music. "Suppose it was only a matter, of time. Gally and I…we dated. Secretly, for a little while. I didn't want to tell any of you, despite, well that Newt and Edgar were open about each-other. At the time, it was pretty swell between us."

Until the first time Gally struck him. Not just a little smack, either. The silence that followed for a moment's being, before he spoke again was deafening.

"We had a mutual respect after I beat him, at his little wrestling match. I became…cocky, afterwards. We fought off and on."

"Did he hit you?"

Elliot did not respond. Minho sucked in a breath, knowing this was not about him and how he felt. "A few times…yeah. Those bruises on my face, weren't always an accident."

"And you had quite a few of them. Jesus, Eli…you could've come, to any of us. Especially Alby."

"I know, I know I could have. But…then I started to wonder. Oh…never mind." He banished that thought. Knowing Minho would most likely, find him crazy for his theory.

Minho of course was insistent. He shook his head, urging Elliot to continue. "No, tell me. Because if you're thinking, what I was thinking, then I'd know I wasn't freaked out."

"Fine. I was starting to question if we were being controlled. There were days I felt normal. Fine as rain, until I had these thoughts in my head. As if a voice was whispering in my ear, my whole time there you know? I knew things, like what a radio was without ever actually seeing one before, until that one time it was requested. Or that the sun's our biggest star. That there's no light, on the moon despite the fact we have it."

"Exactly what I was feeling, I knew that thing with your eyes was heterochromia. Newt knew that Edgar had selective mutism, even before they actually spoke with one another. After we listened to that message, from Chancellor Paige…that's when I realized."

"That it was all a test. A simulation training." Elliot deducted. His anger towards WICKED, resurfaced once again. "Never had I felt so much, like a lab rat. Hell, we're away from them for now anyway and I still, feel like that."

It was then decided, they had to move. They couldn't stay in one location, for too long. But before their leaving Minho remembered the bodies. "I didn't want you to see this, we've seen too much already with Chuck and Gally," he pushed open the wooden door.

Elliot's eyes parted. Falling to the poor fate, of what became of that family in the album. "…We should bury them. It's only respectful." He said softly. Swallowing a thick lump, that had settled.

Dry winds whipped through their hair, as they carried them carefully out. Minho dug three holes each. A make shift cross was made later.

"…C'mon. Let's move. Hopefully, we'll find Thomas and the others." Minho said.

Elliot looked one more time, finding his eyes wet sudden. "Good bye…sleep well."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! Sorry this is a little late, the holidays have been hectic *but wonderful, just having been over post holiday blues*. 
> 
> I hope you liked this bonding moment, with Minho and Elliot, short as it was. Couldn't resist the idea, of them having separated, for the scenes I've had planned. Until the next chapter! <3


	7. Into The Heat

He couldn't tell what day it even was. They merged, into one jumbled mess. That lone house had been the only structure for miles on end. "Always thought you'd be the one, in Hell Minho." Elliot panted. "Not me."

Minho snorted, he noticed Elliot's breaths appeared more labored. Whatever Janson forced in him, the drug's side effects were kicked in. "Right, because you're Mr. Goodie-Goodie, yourself. I'm startin' to regret leaving that house…"

"Not like it could be helped, we can't stay in one place for long," Elliot felt the back of his neck. A shudder suppressed, to think they were tracked their whole days. His eyes searched and searched. Still no signs of Thomas, Newt or the others. Fear pooled in his stomach. _Just how far behind are we?_

It was not aware his legs had given way until Minho reached out. His quick strides enough, to catch him just before he collapsed.

"Shuckin' hell Elliot. Shit. I'm gonna have to carry you." Elliot of course protested.

He was not fine. Not really. It scared him in all honest truth, what was wrong these past few weeks. "Minho, you can't possibly all the way. What if I just lean onto you-." Strong arms swooped underneath his legs. His right cradled Elliot's neck.

The heat to his face was blamed, on the sun's powerful rays. His ears burned, when Minho gives a coy smirk. "Cozy for ya?"

"…Shut up."

"Oh, I know you love me."

Their faces were close in this position. Warm breath struck against his neck, Minho stiffened when Elliot's arms wrapped around his broad shoulders. They did not speak much after that. He could see red form on Minho's arms, the heat was starting to make them both dizzy.

 _Human body's sixty percent of water. You can last a week without it. Food on the other hand, is difficult to be without. There has to be something around here…hell, I'd rather eat a spider_ "Where exactly are we, again Elliot?" Minho asked.

"Rat Man called it The Scorch. It's a place, where the sun's flares suffered most damage." Elliot explained, motioning Minho he could walk now. The dizzy spells were off and on now, rather than frequent.

"Oh, that's fantastic," Minho grumbled. "Far away from civilization. What a joy."

"That house for some reason survived though. Maybe, we'll find another shelter. Or a river…"

"One can only dream, Eli."

The two boys staggered on. Eyes and ears trained in case, another search for them was ordered by Janson. Minho at some point found a bed sheet in his backpack, used for protection against the punishing heat. Sand piled up in their shoes, not made for this kind of walking.

"Does this feel familiar at all?" Elliot asked.

"Not really. Probably just, déjà vu again." Minho said.

"Well, I've been having it a lot then….I had a dream, a while back," he spoke slow. Hopeful Minho would not think, he's lost it after sharing this. "You and me. We were running. Across a hot dessert like this. My father…he was there, to. I don't remember what happened to him, in the dream."

Minho paused. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry's for if you've done something, wrong. He was protective of us, very much so. I could never hear what he said, but, I knew it had to be what a father would say."

Before he took one step further, Minho thrusts out his arm. Elliot's blue and green eyes narrowed at the sudden halt.

"Min-?"

Two figures. Both wrapped in tattered clothes. Elliot blanched when he realized, they were running for them. His heart racing against his sudden uncomfortable chest. "Who are you? Start talking, NOW." Minho barked, whispering for Elliot to stay close.

"We're Cranks," the woman said. Pointing with her thumb, towards the town which they came.

"Hell is a Crank?" He didn't take to the way, they eyed Elliot.

"We're Cranks," the man repeats. "We came to see if you were to, see if you got The Flare."

"What's it to you, if we did." Elliot demanded. "I don't expect you, to throw us a party."

   The woman continued to question. "Who are you? How'd you come to find, The Scorch?"

They look at one another. Minho's face said 'no' but Elliot's said 'yes'. Sometimes it's like that, with them. Edgar called it 'soul staring', where only the strongest of bonds could communicate without words. "I swear, you've finally lost your head." Minho hissed.

"The truth can't hurt, Minho…too bad." Elliot retorted, looking back at the Cranks. "We…we came from bad conditions. We're only trying to find, our friends. Are their more, like you around?"

"Not all Cranks are gone, not yet. Different ones on different levels. Best you learn to make friends, if you're to survive." The man said.

"Fine. Fine, just…what should we, look out for?" Minho sighed. Not wanting to trust them, but came to the conclusion they had no choice, really.

"Zones are all that's visible, created to separate us. Watch out for the old guy, he's mean. He'll be the first to greet you on this side of town." Their eyes follow a burnt, bloodied finger towards a desolate city, far off into the distance.

Their sun had long since set over a pink and orange sky. Stars dotted across. "…Doesn't look too far," Minho said. Hands on his hips. "Should make it in a day's time."

Elliot nodded in agreement. They could find hopefully what they needed. Water, food, shelter. A place to actually live. On they trekked. A hushed silence once more fell over, the duo.

**~*******~**

The Cranks were not so bad, end result. The woman presented extra food, mostly what they already had *granola bars, that held a taste of Styrofoam cups, only one extra thing of a water bottle*. In their position you did not complain. You took what you could gain.

Shelter had been an old truck, its wheels forever stuck and encrusted in sand. A tight fit, but it was manageable.

"Well, at least we're not dealing with Grievers. They'd probably burn right up, or turn into a ball of dust." Elliot said, wincing when his stomach growled once more. Hunger pains kicked in over time.

"That Flare sounds worse in all honest truth…" Minho stared up at the countless stars. Head rested back, against torn leather. "When I was stung, that's almost what it feels like. You just…lose it. Who you are."

He knew where this was going. In secret Elliot wondered, just how much guilt Minho had dealt with. Turning over on his side, he slipped his hand in Minho's. It's warmth a shock, to his cold. "Stop it, will you? I know that wasn't you back there. Just like I knew, it wasn't Gally. Condemning yourself does more harm, than release."

"I know, I know. Shuck, Eli…I just…you mean a lot to me. Y'know?" Minho murmured. "Newt told me, what I almost did. That sick feeling'll take a long time, before it completely disappears. You're the last person, on this hell hole of a planet, I'd ever want to hurt." He brushed a strand of red hair, behind Elliot's ear.

There it was. That spark whenever they interacted like this. Except this night, it grew. And grew.

Elliot licked his lips. Shifting closer. Minho didn't stop him, neither did he. "What do you want?" he whispers. Like a soft blow of wind, into his ear.

Minho did not answer. His eyes roamed Elliot's body. Chest rising and falling, with each slow breath.

"You…"

All of him.

Their kiss this time, is unlike what they had back in The Glade. Far from it. Not of innocence and curiosity. Minho's hands are on Elliot's hips, drawing him in close. Elliot craned his neck when he's pinned, to the seats. Allowing those lips to kiss, lick, bite whatever Minho desired to do. Elliot felt those toned muscles from under his shirt, sliding it over his head.

"You're sure?" Minho mouthed, in between kisses. A shudder as Elliot's lone hand wandered, to his pants.

"Oh, I'm dead sure…"

His hands clutched Minho's shoulders. Lips parted, followed by a whimper. He's rough, but reminds him who can be in control. He saw the bruises and scars that lined every inch, of Elliot's skin.

This in turn caused Minho to wake, with a start. His heart pounding like mad, as if he had ran through The Maze once more.

They were not in that truck. His dark eyes traveled around, realizing it's under just a pile of debris. Sweat drips from his eyebrow, as a soft groan escaped. "What are you doing to me?" he whispered, to no one.

Only the sweet sound of nothing and Elliot's calm breaths, followed by brief bouts of coughing made him realize it was only a dream, that he could not blame on WICKED this time.

A dream he wished in truth, was reality.


	8. The Mall

They found an abandoned mall early into next morning. Covered in dust, sand and who knows what else. Elliot moved his flashlight around carefully. His mind on occasion drifting back to what those Cranks had said, about The Flare.

A squeak startled him, prompting to jump away at once only to find it's a child's doll he stepped on.

"…I don't think they're here, either," he said softly out loud, to Minho. "Do we make camp here or continue on?"

"We've rested long enough earlier today, let's move out." He said. Elliot noticed how he looked away from him, real fast. Averting his eyes elsewhere. _Are you really that thick-headed, Eli? You see it. You're just scared of it_

"To think…a child could have, been playing with this. Right when The Flare happened." he says softly, to no one in particular.

"Hey…hey watch it!"

The world around seems to spin. Elliot collided into something hard. A yelp escaped, shielding his arms over his face believing it to be one of those Crank things. Minho's quiet snickers, caused him to glare at the latter. "Not one word. To the others." He hissed.

"You mean how you were freaked, by a chair?" Minho said, between laughs.

"It's not that funny, thank you. I thought I was attacked."

"Yeah, because we have to watch out for flying chairs."

"Minho!"

Up they went. The escalators held a familiarity in themselves. He imagined they worked, at one point or another. Their flashlight beams bounce off the broken glass windows. Movement behind, caught his attention.

"You alright?" Minho asked, his tone serious this time.

"Fine…Just a little jumpy." Elliot replied. Holding a hand to his chest.

There isn't a single source of life, aside from an occasional rodent. Only empty spaces and tents remained. "Who do you think lived down here?" Minho asked.

"Survivors I guess. Doesn't take much to wonder, where they all are…" Elliot continued. Shining his light inside one tent, making sure they didn't miss anyone.

"Elliot. I don't want to end up like those kids back there," Minho admits. The flashlight in his hand shook slight. That incident back in their 'Haven' shook him up, more than he imagined it would. Turning around, he blinked once realizing he was on another side of the room. His eyes flicker to what Elliot's light is on. Quick to regret his decision.

A corpse sat upright in a chair. Bag over their head.

Minho gagged, Elliot covered his eyes. Forcing his attention away. It stunk alright. It reminded him like being in Winston's work area.

When he found a generator, a grin danced across Minho's face.

"Jackpot."

He didn't hear Elliot call out to him. Until a screech caught his attention. A girl had Elliot up against the wall, when the lights one by one come on. Black veins covered her body. Inhuman wails escaped her.

More and more of them started to appear. Emerging behind crates. "Shuck it! Run!" Minho hollered, making a run for it. Those things are right behind them. Gaining speed. "What the hell are those things?!"

"It's those Cranks! But worse than the other two! Move, move, move!"

Like all they ever seem to do. Born for this life, they ran.

Two of those things tried grabbing at Elliot, when they run up the escalators. He cried out after kicking one in its face. His arm taken hold of by Minho.

"Here, in here!" Minho shoved him in an abandoned car. Windows all rolled up. Three or four Cranks surround them. Pounding on the windows, tears streaming down their faces. "…Maybe this wasn't a bright idea." Elliot shot him a 'no really?' look.

They believed for sure this was it. Elliot would not see their friends again, or his father if the man was even alive still. But then. Just as soon as the terror had started, they left. He released his arms, from Minho. Watching in awestruck terror, of their leaving.

"…I don't know what that was about. But, I'm glad it's over." Minho whispered low, still questioning if it really was over. "Oh man…"

Elliot could only nod his agreement. Checking his neck just to make sure, that Crank girl didn't bite him or scratch. "Yeah. So am I. I think…we should stay here, to be safe, Min. Only for a while, then we can be on our way."

"For once I'm in total agreement for rest." Minho settled himself beside him, arms folded over his chest. Mindful of the fact this was, where his very 'dream' had taken place.

Buildings have since crumbled. There's a bridge stretching across, in half. Within the back of his mind, Elliot could envision blue water beneath it. The wind caressing his hair. Driving across with his family.

**~******~**

The change of pace was nice. Neither liked to be in a same spot for long. Calculating without use of a map, Minho deducted they could reach their destination in three days. If, that is weather and Cranks would permit. They carried in nothing but silence. Each with his own thought, how their journey could end.

Another abandoned set of homes were found. Mostly old cabins, each one story tall. Only one bathroom unlike The Farm House, but it was a luxurious thought for a working shower.

"Think we have a shower?" Minho asked.

"If there's electricity." His hands still shook, from their recent encounters. Fear of finding another corpse, wrecked Elliot's logical thoughts. Minho moved ahead of him. Footsteps echoing along wooden floorboards. He's surprised they're still even intact, all cracked and molded in spots.

He flipped a switch. Nothing.

"Fantastic, I think I'll have dirt in my hair forever." Elliot grumbled.

"It builds character, suck it up. Think about when we were in The Glade and had to go without." He knew he shouldn't complain, Minho's agitation was clear as their blue skies (that he wished would downpour in rain). If anyone should be more frustrated, it should be him rather than Elliot.

They found only one bedroom. And one bed. Elliot swallowed, while Minho averts his eyes elsewhere.

"I'll take the couch…"

"No," Elliot said it quick, to even his own shock and Minho's amusement. "I mean…I'd just. It'd be smart to stay together. In case Janson's men find us."

They're in the bed. It's small, not wide enough for two. Minho wrapped his hands behind his head. Elliot stared up at the still sunny skies, at a window above it. He should not be as bothered by this. When sometimes, in The Glade, they would sleep together in the same hammock. Most if a nightmare troubled Elliot or Minho.

"Sleep…" Minho's voice whispered. "I'll chase the dreams away."

For the first time, the nightmares did not come back.


	9. Assault

"Up…"

Someone kicked him. At first he assumed, it was Minho. He liked to play around sometimes like that. But the gun at his face and seeing WICKED's insignia plastered, on the man's armored plate said it all. "Nice and easy, A-9…." His blue and green eyes narrowed. Hands slowly raised.

Forced down the stairs, his blood turned hot at Minho's position. Hands behind his back, tied up like an animal. He had a cut open lip that did not receive attention. He should have known. That hope would not last, it never did.

"Let him go. Now…"

The soldier replied in a smug tone. "I don't believe, A-9, that you're in any position to be barking orders at _us_ ," he drawled. Forcing Elliot on his knees beside Minho. His dark eyes were like that, of two burning coals. "There now. Boss Man likes it, when you're like that."

"How the shuck did you find us?" Minho demanded.

The man with a scarred cheek jutted out his chin. He looked brutally familiar, but he could not draw out a memory. He scared him alright. Real bad, that much Elliot knew. "Tracking. Them codes on the backs of your necks, that's how we were able to find ya. You're smart, but not that quick A-7."

Elliot's eyes twitched, when scar face draws himself purposefully close.

"Where's the others?"

"We don't know…" _And I wouldn't tell you anything_

Blood at once stained his lower lip. His ears rang from the impact, of the man's fist. Minho made a motion but he's silently ordered to stand down. In a way, he felt he was used to a beating. "I won't ask you again, A-9. Where. Is. Thomas."

"I just told you, sir," _be polite. Be cordial as possible, no matter how humiliating it really is_ "I have no idea. Minho has no idea. We've been out here for days; we're exhausted…"

Another blow, this time to his eye. He could feel it become black and blue. It's hard to see out of, he couldn't even see Minho beside him properly. Still he refused. Still he would not speak of their whereabouts. The soldier then takes out a knife. He holds Elliot up, by his hair.

"Don't you lay a hand on his head, or-." The other silenced Minho, with a swift knee kick to his stomach. He coughed and wheezed, doubled over.

Hot breath is against his face. A familiar sensation wafts over him, as though he had been in this position or one similar before. "Minho, please," he mouthed. It's so cold against his hot skin. So cold.

"Be a real shame to cut your face up, A-9. Boss Man wouldn't like that, not one bit. But you need to learn some respect, FAST. This, is the only way I believe. Don't you? Or, your nice and pretty hair." He slid it along Elliot's top part, just barely brushing it.

"I SAID to back. The hell off."

Minho's captor smirked down at him. "Aw, sweet on 'im kiddo? How touching. I dunno, Markus. The other one is a little prettier…"

He broke free. Elliot used a knife he had snatched in secret, before they cuffed him. He did not want to use it, but he stabbed Markus in his arm. A howl escaped, pushing Elliot back. Minho broke from his bindings. In a rage Elliot had not seen before, he pounced on the second soldier from behind. Over and over he beats his face in, until it's a bloodied mess.

Elliot jumped on Markus's back, he dug his nails into his face, gouging it. . He still managed to pin Kieran against the table, wrapping his hands around his throat.

He still managed to pin Elliot against the table, wrapping his hands around his throat.

Ugly choking sounds would escape.

Minho plunged the knife into his back. He continued over and over, until he no longer moved. His chest rose up and down, rising and falling. Blood dripped from his hands as he knelt in front of Elliot.

"Hey. Hey it's okay, it's okay now…c'mon…" he soothed, picking him up in his arms.

Elliot could only stare down at the bodies. Not comprehending just what had happened, in fact he did not think he ever would understand it. A storm could be seen coming from the east. Lightning flashed like tendrils in darkening skies.

"Minho…"

"Let's hunker down for a while longer."

A mutual agreement was made.

**~******~**

Wind and rain pummeled the rooftop. The roofs constantly leaked, it was not safe at all like their first shelter. Makeshift buckets were used to try and collect the water. Every so often, Minho would take a wet cloth and dab at Elliot's swollen eye.

"I'll be fine, Min. It just stings…a lot. Remember, when Chuck punched me on accident?"

A small smile crossed the Runner's face. He wasn't in the mood, for humor. He didn't think he ever would be. Elliot knew how he could be. Minho sometimes dug himself in too deep, with guilt.

"…I don't hate you, if that's what you're thinking. You did what had to be done." Soft. Careful with his words.

"I know you don't. But…I killed someone, Elliot. I've killed Grievers. A few Cranks that chased us. A person? That takes a certain kind of monster. I don't want to be like…like them."

None of that. Elliot would hear NONE of that. He cupped Minho's face, with his hand, forcing him to look in his eyes. "You're NOT like them, Minho. Far from any WICKED soldier. For you to even suggest that, boggles my bloody mind as is." He spent far too much time, with Newt he's aware. "You're many things. You're a dork…major one. A bit of an asshole. But, WICKED you are not."

He took one of Minho's hands into his own. Rubbing the back with his knuckles, in a soothing fashion.

"I care about you, Minho. For you to say a thing like that, it hurts deep."

He wanted Minho to know so much, just how he felt about him. Silence had fallen over. Sleep came to them, despite the bodies in the house. Neither let each-other go.


	10. Scream In The Night

Screams caught their attention. Loud and shrill, as though someone was tortured. Minho was the first to examine, his head frantically swiveling from one side to its other. Elliot's heart is like a drum against his chest.

"What the shuck, is that?" he whispered. As though he were afraid, whatever it was could come inside.

"I don't know…it's creepy isn't it?" Minho tracked back towards Elliot, arms wrapped around his shoulders. "Just take yourself back to sleep. I'll stay up." Not like he could sleep anyway. Not with whatever, or whoever it was making that racket.

To his relief, he was out in seconds. The air held an odd coolness at night, when Minho walks out onto the old porch. He couldn't take the stench for long, of those bodies. His eyes peered out into darkness and nothing more. Wondering 'how long'? How long must they walk? Until something was discovered?

Movement had caught his attention. He blinked, making a swift movement to take his knife unsure if it was a Crank or another soldier of WICKED. _WICKED is good-._ He thought with dry sarcasm.

A lone figure stood from the shadows. Her clothes tattered and worn, hair long and silky black as it was outside. He could only see her eyes…a striking, electric blue.

"…Teresa?" he whispered.

"Teresa's here?" he didn't notice Elliot, until seconds later. A silent apology made for startling Minho. "I couldn't sleep…but, is that really her?"

"I can't tell for sure, her eyes are familiar. 'Bout as blue as your one…"

Elliot narrowed his to have a better look. Even with the moon's light, he still couldn't see her face clear enough. "Damn, it's too dark out here, we could try and approach her."

"Yeah and risk getting our limbs torn off, it could be a Crank for all we know. Didn't your mom tell you not to approach strangers?"

Elliot's glare said it all. Minho kicked himself mentally, rubbing his neck. Above the skies turned a nasty dark grey. Lightning was quick to strike, but neither boy noticed. Until Minho walked closer towards the figure that is, ready to call out her name.

His ears rang. Echoing violently. The moment he saw him collapse, Elliot screamed out his name, racing for him. Smoke billows from singed clothes, when he's taken inside. Elliot placed him on the couch, slapping at Minho's face.

"Wake up, wake up! C'mon slinthead! Shuckface…!" he's choking on his own words. Tears fell free from his eyes.

It's wrong, wrong on so many levels to see Minho like this. He cursed the skies above them. He cursed WICKED and everyone whom worked for them. Hands pressed to Minho's chest, he pumps and pumps. Blowing oxygen into his mouth. Still slapping his face, light.

"Don't…Not him…Not him, damn it…"

One more kiss.

One he feared to be his last, for Minho's were like ice to the touch. His body looked like a corpse. "Minho…"

Five…

Four…

Three…

Two…

He almost called it, burying his head against Minho's chest. Until he felt two arms slowly wrap around him.

**~******~**

They never heard the screaming again. Elliot cherished silence, as he stroked Minho's cheek. A relieved grin etched across his face. "Hey," he whispered, when bleary eyes become more focused.

"Hey…" Minho licked his lips. Whimpers escaped, when he tried to move but found the pain too much. "Shit, that burns."

"Typical after being struck, by lightning. Take it easy for a while, will you?"

Minho didn't think this time. His lips touched Elliot's. Hard as to be expected, yet they're light in a way. Passionate. Elliot allowed himself to relax in his hold. A shudder coursed up his spine, when his tongue licked across swift. But he became worried for Minho's just waking, he placed his hands light on his shoulders.

"…What was that for?" he asked, breathless.

"Felt it's the right time. Finally…" Minho simply stated. As if it were the most, natural in the world to decide upon. And to them it was.

"Well, I'd say you're timing couldn't have been more perfect." Elliot scooted closer, forehead pressed to his. "Mr. Runner."

Minho had to smile at this.

Elsewhere, in The Scorch.

Thomas led them to an underpass, moving some little ways off with Teresa joining him.

Edgar had his head on Newt's shoulder, with the latter playing with his hair. "Eddie…why'd you call me 'James' that one night. Back in The Glade." Newt asked.

The dark haired boy bit his inside cheek. Fiddling with his fingers. Frypan and Aris look on with intrigue. It was hard to fathom still, Winston was really dead. Their numbers had since dwindled. "I thought I was going crazy at first…" he admits. "But, my memory was coming back."

"You remember?" Frypan asked, with wide eyes.

"Yeah…" Edgar sniffled some. Breathing slowly out. "We knew each-other. Before all this. I had a best-friend…. who became, later on my partner. He was taken from me though.

They wanted me first…but, he wouldn't allow that.

I never…thought I'd see him again. Until…"

"Until you were put in The Maze." Newt finished, swallowing thick. "That's why you guys called me, Newt. That isn't my real name…"

Edgar wiped his eyes, having not realized he was crying until now. Looking shyly the others way. "I remember you to, Frypan. Thomas. Elliot…Minho," their names alone sent something within Newt's chest. He couldn't tell either of them, what he thought became of their very best of friends.

His throat ached at the mention of Chuck. Lowering his head. "Oh my God…" he whispered. "Edgar…"

He buried his face in Newt's shoulder. Crying softly that he was 'sorry'. With Newt saying he didn't have to be.

And he didn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to wait. I really did, but I just couldn't…so here's MinEli! *Or if you've a better pairing name, I wouldn't mind at all. Terrible at these*. And a little bit of what Thomas and the others were up to, Edgar admits he remembered all that time he was in The Glade, but couldn't admit it then with reason. 
> 
> And…no. I'm afraid, you all know what's up next. You-Know-Who's still after them all and Elliot, in particular. Oh and one more thing: 
> 
> While this series is rated Mature, I know smut's not a warning but it is for others. *Take chapter eight as an example* Especially when The Death Cure comes about. M doesn't exactly mean dirty.


	11. Reunions

_His memories were in waves. Sometimes he could see them, before all of this. Newt was eight, he was seven. Mother and Father were friends with his parents, but they didn't look at all like him that's the odd thing._

_Every so often, a shadow of someone would be with him if Newt wasn't around. Or sometimes when they were together._

_Who is she?_

**~******~**

A promise had been made.

Once this was all over, they could build a cabin just like this. They burned the bodies of WICKED soldiers and back out into hell they went. Food had been somewhat scrounged up, canned beans and carrots.

Some mangoes were eaten out of a can, as well. Elliot savored its sweet juices, bite after bite. He noticed the way Minho flinched now when dark clouds gathered, holding onto his hand tight.

Cars left abandoned piled up on a road side. Their new shelter was an old building, with only darkness inside.

Elliot's nose scrunched at the sudden smell in their new surroundings. Rotten. As if someone, had a corpse stashed somewhere. "What in the world…?"

A Crank lunged for him. Screams escaped his lips, his chest rose and fell from shock. That entire warehouse was packed full of these things, to their chagrin. "Oh no. Not again." Minho groaned. Ready to grab anything he could use, for a weapon.

"I see you've met our guard dogs," A girl had appeared. The Cranks tried reaching for her, but she dodged and ducked as if they were nothing. Her hair was dark and short in a boy's style. She was around sixteen or seventeen. She was dressed in old but cool clothes and she crossed her arms as she smirked. "You guys look like shit."

"Understatement." Elliot muttered.

She cupped a hand under her chin. Dark brown eyes eyeing them up and down. "Hmm…" Minho narrowed his eyes. The burns still stung if he moved, that wrong way. "Oh don't give me that look, I think you two'll like what I show you."

It was a haven. Elliot could see people huddled around campfires, warming their hands. Brenda's behavior from earlier still had them all on edge. Minho to be precise, sent her a burning glare as she walked on ahead.

"My name's Brenda. Minho and Elliot right?"

"Yeah…that's us." He shared a look with Minho. A shake of his head, was only given.

"Are you scared of the Cranks?" she asked mockingly. "Scared we'll drag you to the ground and eat your eyeballs out? Mmm, tasty. I love a good eyeball when the grub's runnin' short. Tastes like undercooked eggs."

Minho snorted. "Nice, look we're just here to find some people. If you'll so kindly let us…"

Something was off about her. Elliot didn't care for the way, his stomach churned. He licked his lips out of nervous habit. "How many of you are here?" he spoke up.

"How many? How many Cranks?" Brenda turned to him. "We're all Cranks around here, buddy."

"That's not what he meant and you know it." Minho declared, his tone lethal.

Brenda paced in front of them. Her brown eyes flicker from one to the other, walking in a lazy sort of fashion. Her hands behind her back. "But you weren't sent here to die like the rest of us," she said in a low voice. "Those who speak first are at a disadvantage. I want to know what in God's name your purpose could be, why you're here, where you came from. Now."

Minho sneered up at her. "Unless that lightning storm fried my retinas, I'd say there are two of us against one of you. Maybe you should start talking."

She raised up her hands. A mock sort of defeat. "Fine, fine. Ruin my fun why don't ya? We have your friends…just follow me. Wouldn't want an accident." She nods to her Crank pets.

It was a haven. Elliot could see people huddled around campfires, warming their hands. Brenda's behavior from earlier still had them all on edge. Minho to be precise, sent her a burning glare as she walked on ahead.

"No one has come out of The Scorch in a long time. You've made Jorge curious and even me." Brenda remarked.

Several people watched from behind. Minho forced Elliot's hand in his, which the force part is not needed.

And that's when they saw them. She led them into a room, where Thomas and the others waited. "ELI. Minho." He's the first to jump up, wrap his arms around either of their best-friends. Elliot returned his, while Minho laughed.

"Careful Thomas, I just got hit by lightning…"

"I'm not even gonna ask, I'm just…we're just relieved." His voice's choked up, when he pulled away. Newt, Edgar, Frypan and Teresa came after.

"Never have I been so damn happy, to have my Little Buddy back." Frypan said with a grin, ruffling Elliot's hair.

"Ha, back at ya Fry."

A hispanic man holding a glass cleared his throat, as they looked his way. It's filled with a ruby liquid, no doubt alcohol of some kind. "I'm so very glad to see this reunion happen, but we've other matters…right, hermano?" he asked Thomas's way.

Hermano.

Elliot held the side of his head. Why did that sound so…familiar? "You alright mate?" Newt asked.

"Fine…I think. It's just a little from being out, in The Scorch is all."

"Come on now, don't need to tell me everything at once." He shrugged, taking a sip.

Minho took a step forward. His eyes ablaze, looking ready to maul the man until Brenda stopped. A knife at his throat.

Elliot's reaction was instant. "Let him go…." He bit out.

"Or what?" Brenda's eyes glint a little. First struck by lightning. Now this. _This is not my shuckin' week_ went through, Minho's mind.

"I don't care that you're a girl. You so much as lay a finger on him, I swear…Brenda. You'll regret it."

"I don't care that you're a girl. You so much as lay a finger on him, I swear…Brenda. You'll regret it."

There's a smile in his voice at that last part, drawing confusion from Minho and the others. Jorge even gave a little grin. "You stupid shrimp, I was wondering when you'd remember." Brenda released Minho, in turn hugging Elliot tight as can be.

Frypan pointed her way. "Hang on. You know Psycho Girl?"

"Yeah, Fry at least now I remember. Funny, all it took was you threatening….my boyfriend."

Boyfriend. That name sounded so different. But a good different. "Yeah. Ha, ha. I'm laughing my ass off." Minho muttered, with a sigh.

Brenda raised her hands in a warning fashion. "You the leader?" she asked. Thomas shook his head.

"No, it's the guy you just nipped with a knife earlier,"

She looked Minho's way. "Well, that's stupid. I know I'm on the verge of crazy, but I would've picked you. You seem the leader type."

"Um…thanks."

Teresa narrowed her eyes, earnin a chuckle from Elliot. "What?" she muttered. "What's so funny?"

"Oh nothing. Nothing at all."

"Um… thanks…" Thomas stared at her. "I, uh, would've picked you too instead of Jorge."

"You're so sweet," she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. "I really hope we don't end up killing you, at least."

Elliot shared a look with the rest of the boys and Teresa. Jorge shook his head, a sigh almost escaping. "Enough with the love fest, Brenda. Get 'em some food. Elliot, come walk with me for a while."

It was an order. Much as he did not want to leave Minho, or his friends he complied to Jorge's demand. "I'll be back, don't worry." He murmured, feeling Minho's lips to his cheek.

"Just be-careful around him…"


	12. WICKED Is As WICKED Does

Elliot followed Jorge into another part of his haven. He was not too far, Thomas and the others could still be heard talking with Brenda. He kept himself quiet for most of their walk, afraid if he said that wrong thing, it would be the end for all of them.

"I'm surprised you've made it this far. Your father would be proud."

"You know who he is?"

Jorge nodded. Sipping the last of his wine. He stared of a somewhat fondness, into the cup. They say you could tell a person by their eyes, you can see every emotion. Every thought. For so long, he's wanted to know if he even had parents at all. But he knew he had to wait and listen, if he wants answers.

"I do, yes. We go way back…but that's not why you're here, with me." He turned to Elliot with a sudden cold look. "Where are you heading?"

"…I can't tell you."

"Now that's not fair, hermano. It's not how it works."

Elliot's lips pursed.

"You want Minho safe don't you?"

He did. Very much so. He wanted them all to be safe. "I do…but, you're not our haven Jorge. I can't believe you're planning to sell me out, like this after all we've-." They didn't seem to hear a fizzle. And then a pop coming from the stairs. Until something detonated. Metal and concrete rained down. His feet shook and his body swayed.

Jorge was even scared, he could see. He took Elliot by his shoulders, bellowing out "RUN!".

His feet at once took off. Across the trembling floors, motioning for the others. Minho and Newt were already on either side. Edgar was with Frypan, Aris and Teresa. "Thomas!" Elliot heard her cry out.

"Teresa, wait!"

Someone stopped her at once, from moving. Minho pulled her back, from a collapsed ceiling. Newt and Elliot pull each-other along towards a dark, narrow tunnel. Separated by a wall from the others.

**~*******~**

Dust and dirt caked his hair and face. They waited a moment longer for the collapsed ceiling, to stop shaking. "Oh shuck…shuck, I-I'm so sorry, Newt…" he found himself speaking out.

"Hey, it's fine, we're alive at least." Newt said breathlessly.

"I can't say that's a real accomplishment, look at this." Elliot stated, throwing up his arms in disbelief at the wall blocking their way back.

"Elliot!"

The minute he heard Minho's voice, he ran for the wall. His hands pressed to the metal, seeing him through a crack just big enough. "Minho, are you guys alright?"

"There should be another way out, hermano. Do you see it?" he heard Jorge state.

Newt looked to their left. "Yeah, it's a tunnel but it's too dark."

Jorge pushed his arm through the crack, handing Elliot a torchlight. Elliot clicked it on, shining it along the debris. "That damn Barkley," Jorge muttered. "The tunnel on your left should be to your way out."

"What about you guys?"

"Oh I'm sure we can manage, I'll keep your boys and the lady safe. It's the two of you, I question."

They shared a weary look, before back to the others. "Edgar, I promise to see you again. Just stick close as possible." Newt told him firmly. His lips tremble only slight, for Elliot to see how worried he was.

"I got it…be-careful Eli, Newt…"

Minho's fingers were all he could push through. It's always like electricity when they touch. "See ya in a bit…"

"Yeah…don't do anything stupid."

Their torches lit up the room of a gloomy building. "Is this safe?" Newt asked, prompting a snort from Elliot.

"This place is crawling with Cranks," he said. Leading them down the tunnel. High pitched laughter echoed. Elliot almost wished he hadn't looked, to find someone in the shadows. Waiting. Watching.

Shining his light on one side of the wall, words could be seen in marker or a type of paint.

**_I found a new friend_ **

**_It belonged to another man, but I took it away_ **

**_It's mine, own_ **

**_My precious little nose_ **

**_Now I have another nose_ **

**_I'm the happiest girl in the world!_ **

"Oh God," Elliot blanched. Forcing his gaze away. "Newt, don't look at the walls."

"Don't have to tell me twice, Eli. We should keep our voices low…" he paused, after that to realize he was still talking. _Oh Newt, don't ever change_

Elliot swept his torchlight to the ground. Every little sound caused him to jump. From the sound of mice that he knew, had to be lurking here as well. To the shadows on the walls, seeming to take shape. _"Are you afraid, Elliot? Poor boy, always knew you were a coward."_ He heard it clear as if it were Newt speaking.

His heart rate raced. He found it difficult to carry forward, until Newt urged him on. "Somethin' troubling ya?"

"No…I'm alright, Newt. Just fine…hey. Out of curiosity, do you ever…hear things?"

"Like what?"

No, he could not tell him he was hearing voices. That was never a good thing. He licked his lips, telling Newt 'Never mind' and pressed on. He did not see the other's raised brow. His only focus now, was to find their way back to their friends.

As they round a corner, he could feel his face become pale. There was a man. Only he was not really a man. Newt's eyes parted, his expression that of appalment to see this man feast on the head of a rat. Blood dribbled down to his chin, grinning their way once Elliot's torchlight revealed his face. Veins protrude from its skin. His teeth were sharp but rotten and yellow. His eyes…yellow like an animals. Like the Cranks, he and Minho ran into.

"Boy…you are the same boy, right? The one from the hot sands? Yes…your eyes. I like them very much…"

"Oh bloody," Newt blanched. Reaching for a lone wrench he found, as his makeshift weapon.

The woman appeared as well. She had stringy hair, same veins on her face and down to her neck. Her eyes bulged from their sockets. "We just want to play with you two," she cooed. "Pretty boys…"

"Newt. Run. Now."

A little girl approached them. Holding her doll at her side. She looked the worst. One eye missing. Clothes ripped and torn. And…she has a missing nose. Her left arm is mangled, she played with it. Giggling. "I want to play a game. You two, look fun." She pointed at Elliot and Newt.

They make a mad dash down the hallway. The Cranks at once follow, shouting like lunatics in an asylum after them. Elliot pumped his legs, not daring to lNewt go for a second. "How do we get out of here?!" Newt yelled, as they slammed into a door leading towards the staircase. A man blocks their entrance, holding a baseball bat. Grinning like a mad man.

"Wanna dance?"

"Shit…Hide, just hide." He cursed.

They duck behind different cubicles.

An office of some kind. Elliot punched out as someone grabbed his wrist. When he's down, it was not a crank as he assumed. It's Aris. "Stay down. And stay quiet." He mouthed. One by one Elliot's relieved to see the others. But still no Thomas or Brenda.

Keeping their arms and legs away. The Cranks weren't just grotesque in appearance, they smelled like shit. He tried not to gag when a man walked on by, giggling high pitched. "Come out, come out wherever you arrrrrre. Are we playing games now? Let's play together!"

Edgar covered his ears beside Newt and Frypan. Biting his cheek hearing a woman sob. "Play game, play game!" She was slapped by another man.

Children.

They behaved like young ones, who couldn't play right now filing out of the room. Jorge put a finger to his lips. Pointing to the door across from them. "Are you crazy?" Minho hissed.

"Got any other ideas?"

They ran as light as they could behind him. A body had been passed. Some were stepped over. They came out into the streets and into a van outside. "You sure we're safe in here?" Frypan asked backseat.

Jorge looked over with a smile. "Used it before and lasted me till morning. We'll be safe. You alright, Elliot?"

"…Not really. Jorge, those things…what exactly are they?"

"Always appreciated your honesty, Eli. Surprised you don't know the story of it, hermano. After the sun flares ravaged the earth, the Flare happened. Some say that it was a biological weapon set free from a government containment facility. Others say the government released it on the population to control the population. Either way, things got out of hand and it spread like wildfire. Turned those who got infected crazy and the others barely surviving. There are a few stages.

The first stage you barely feel anything at all but they say it starts with a buzzing noise in your head as the Flare eats your brain. You slowly go insane, losing control over your own actions and the more you stay active, the faster it spreads. You lose your mind, becoming more like a wild beast before you finally go past the Gone, where you basically become a zombie who can ramble and eat brains.

They say there are those who can survive the Flare. Mostly young people like yourselves. They call them Immunes. The Flare doesn't just spread from a bite or scratch. It spreads through the very air we breathe in, so it's near impossible for you to not get infected unless you're immune.

The remaining governments formed WICKED to take care of the problem and so far they have barely managed to contain it. Maybe that's why they want you kids," he said and he yawned. "Well, enough bed time stories. Better rest up.

Tomorrow we head for the mountains and hopefully the said Right Arm is there. And I think I know just who to ask."


	13. Like Fire

Warm sunlight spread over his face, when Elliot woke up. Minho's arms are wrapped securely around him, inside that van with his chin against his head. He couldn't blame him, they were reunited only to be separated once more.

"Hey, Hermano heads up!"

He effortlessly caught a can of baked beans, tossed by Jorge. All at once dived in, hungrier than ever before. Elliot closed his eyes. "This is so shuckin' good. Jorge, where'd you find these?"

"This place used to be a manufacturing city. Plenty of warehouses with stocked food. Maybe that's why many of us were dumped here. Guess they knew we won't die of starvation." Jorge said, popping a sausage in his mouth.

"What do you mean dumped here?" Aris asked.

"Once you're diagnosed with the Flare, they take you away and send you to quarantine cities. More like dumping grounds for people with the Flare. They leave you here to slowly go insane and start eating others…"

Minho almost choked on his food, with Elliot giving a few swift pats on his back. "So. You have it then. The Flare?"

"Dunno. Been here for years after the sun flares ravaged the earth. So far I'm still alive and sane." Jorge answered. "Well, hurry up. We have an appointment with Marcus."

~*******~

Small camps were in place as they followed Jorge down the road. Fires burned in oil barrels. Elliot turned his head and could see a mother, wrapped in a blanket with her two children. He wanted to do something, but what?

"Hey. Doing alright?" Newt lightly nudged his arm.

"…Yeah. I'm fine, Newt. Just thinking."

"Tommy'll make it back to us. Same for your friend."

"I know."

Behind them, Minho's eyes narrow. Just slight. He wasn't jealous of Newt and Elliot's friendship, now. He always liked the fact, Elliot had others to talk to, even when they weren't 'together' back in The Glade. And yet.

And yet, something flickered that moment. A moment he's sure, he's felt before. Like with Gally.

"So who's Marcus?" Minho shook those thoughts away, focusing on what's important.

"Supposedly he used to send kids to the Right Arm after they escaped from WICKED. But he went dark a while back, never heard from him since." Jorge explained.

The stench of alcohol and sweat perfumed through the building. Elliot covered his mouth, not liking as some older boys leered his way. "How can anyone possibly party…" he muttered. Minho shook his head.

"Just stay close, alright?"

"Ditto…"

"Most of these people here already got the Flare kid. What better way to spend the rest of your days than party the night away?" Jorge said over his shoulder.

"Still, it's unsettling." Newt muttered in disgust.

They could see an obnoxious man up ahead. He clearly had one too many, for his face was bright red. And he held a drink in one hand. "Hey Jorge. Long time no see! You here for the party?!"

Not one for fooling around, Jorge's quick to slam him up against the wall.

"Be serious Marcus. I need information on the Right Arm!"

Marcus giggled. "No can do, Jorge. I don't know a thing about them." He reached for his drink. But Jorge grabbed it and smashed it to the floor. His face at once turned into a frown. "That was my drink." His lips turned into a sneer. "Teach our guests some manners."

Men surrounded them. Jorge shot two, point blank. Marcus, with horror filled eyes looked his way. He started moving, but Minho with his quick reflex's grabbed him and pinned against the wall.

A rifle echoed.

Heads turned, shocked to see it's Edgar. His eyes were wide as glass shattered from the ceiling. Shaking his head. "Party's over…shanks. Get out, or we'll make you."

People ran and ducked for cover, or, some did. Newt and the others look at him in utter shock, while Jorge orders Elliot and Minho to tie Marcus to a chair. "Eddie….that was awesome." Frypan grinned.

Newt pulled him in for a kiss. A big grin etched across his face, cupping Edgar's left cheek. "I bloody love you."

And Edgar simply smiled. Feeling rather proud of himself, that night. Jorge's ruthless it turns out. He started beating Marcus's face in relentlessly, for at least an hour by now. They're all surprised, he's lasted this long in. Not being a personal fan to watch another suffer, Elliot found himself in a room with Minho. Grimacing at each sound made.

"Thomas and Brenda are okay. Right?"

"Yeah, they should be. They're just a little alcohol'd up…." Minho stroked his left shoulder.

He nodded once in relief. Flinching again. Not from Minho, from the chaotic scene just outside. "Minho. Are you scared?"

Janson's words repeat, coming from Elliot. "No…I'm not. Because you're with me."

Elliot smiled ever soft, as he runs his hand up Minho's cheek. "I love you. Shank."

A coy smirk spread across his face. "Appreciate your Glader Slang, hasn't left…still funny as hell."

"Just say it back, will ya?"

"Fine. Twist my arm. I love you, to."

They close the gap. It starts off slow, innocent before Minho has him down in seconds. Elliot raised his hips in anticipation. Watching with glazed eyes as Minho takes off his shirt. Sliding it over his head.

There were scars alright. Burns after that freak lightning storm. Charring some parts of his chest, that he didn't care.

He could feel him shudder as lithe fingers run along those wounds. "Okay…Play time's over." Minho whispered.

"I conquer."

He didn't mind if Minho was a little rough, that's to be expected. There was that touch of fear still lingering. Of what Janson did to him. Minho would pause every few moments, to make certain he's alright.

The last he wanted for Elliot, is anymore trauma to follow.

Minho's lips find their way down his chest. Straddling his hips.

A gasp escaped. Then a whimper.

Tears pooled behind his eyes, of sheer pleasure. Whispering Minho's name. Urging him to go forward with each thrust.

He threw his head back. Trying to keep quiet as possible, knowing no one could walk in on them. They'd never live this down.

Upon release, Minho collapsed on top of him. Wry smiles plastered on both their faces, their condom removed. /Courtesy of Newt…go figure/. "Did…Did I just….With you?"

"Yup. That proves it, shuck-face. You're stuck with me now."

"Whatever will I do, with a brute like yourself."

They laugh.

And kissed once more, before Elliot pulled him towards a shower area.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate writing smut scenes, most of the fact they're a pain to write ;; At the same time, I wanted you to have a little MinhoxElliot scene, before it all becomes darker than it is now. And I don't know if I said this or not already, but in this fic series Janson is definitely not a man of morals or good in him. Wicked as they come. /May or may not, be a bad pun/. Just a warning, hence why I added a few more tags in.


	14. Haven

Wind whipped through his hair, down the road. Bertha it turned out was a car, Marcus had. Long and blue with horns decorating its front. Thomas sat in the front with Jorge, as the man turned with a grin on his face.

He reminded Elliot of a father, keeping an eye on his kids during a road trip. A small grin crossed his face, near rolling his eyes when Minho pulled him on his lap. That smug expression had yet of leaving.

They were all enjoying themselves. Minus Teresa and Brenda. Both girls were unnaturally quiet.

"You alright?" Newt asked Brenda, lifting his head off Edgar's shoulder.

Brenda gave a slow nod. One hand over her stomach. "I'm fine…"

They passed underneath a dark tunnel. Into an area with abandoned cars and other vehicles. "I think we should stay down." Elliot uttered. Feeling something wasn't right.

Before Thomas could reply, a gunshot fired. His heart stopped. Then picked up again, as bullets rained down. Everyone scattered. Hiding behind different vehicles.

"Hey! Stop!" Thomas waved his arms frantic.

How are we NOT getting hit?! Elliot panicked inward, covering his head. Minho shielded him with his body.

"What a lovely day for a ride, huh?!"

"Not the time for sarcasm, Minho."

A gun cocked behind them. Shielding his eyes, he could see it's two girls. One of them has long, black hair with dreadlock falling around her head. The other has pale blond hair.

"Get up! The rest of you, better come out!"

Elliot's legs didn't shake as he stood. Hands raised above his head. "Listen….We're looking, for The Right Arm." Thomas began calmly.

The one girl glared past him. When she recognized Aris, her eyes softened. "Aris?" She whispered.

"Harriet?" He gasped.

They at once hug one another. As if afraid to let each-other go. The other girl, Sonya joins their embrace. "You're lucky we didn't shoot you, dumbass," Harriet grinned.

Elliot blinked twice. Frowning in confusion, side-eyeing Brenda. "Uh…Aris. Mind introducing?"

A laugh escaped his lips, as he dried his eyes with his shirt sleeve. "We were in The Maze, together." He grinned.

"…But you're a guy."

"He was the only boy. Rest were all girls, like Harriet and Sonya." Minho explained. Remembering Elliot wasn't with them.

Harriet proceeded leading them to two jeeps, where a pair of men waited for them.

Making their way down a slope, Elliot could see a camp of sorts down below it. Tents flapped in a warm breeze. People young and old settled down in small groups. Harriet turned around to smile at them. "They've been planning for this for months. We've managed to stop WICKED from getting this far."

"Who's in charge?" Minho asked.

"You'll see." Her expression's smug. Several people looked at them, with a mixture of fear and curiosity. "Hey Vince! Look who we found wandering on the mountain road!"

A man in his late forties trudged over. His face was worn. Elliot wondered in silence, the unspeakable horrors he could have possibly endured, all these years in their hellish world.

"You trust them?" Vince asked.

Harriet nodded her head. An arm around Aris's shoulders. "I trust him. He was in the Maze with us."

"Well, you trust him, but what about them?"

Thomas didn't flinch when Vince studied his face. "We escaped from WICKED and now we want to seek help from you." He stated simply, as the man snorted.

"Yeah you do. But how do I know whether you have the Flare or not?"

"We made it this far. You can ease your thoughts, that none of us have it." Elliot stated.

Beside him, Brenda's trembling still. Then, she fell forward. And collapsed on her side. Cries rang out from panicked survivors. Elliot at once dropped to his knees. "Brenda-!? Hey! What the hell-?" Edgar stopped him from touching her quickly. His eyes are wide and alert.

"….Infected." One word escaped his lips. "S-She has it."

"You hear what this kid said? We've got a Crank!" Vince was quick to reload his gun, pointing it at Brenda's twitching, vein covered face.

"Whoa. Whoa. Hey, she still hasn't gone past the Gone yet." Thomas declared, as Minho held Elliot back from attacking Vince.

"Lemme go, Minho-!" He snapped.

"Are you insane?! He's got a shuckin' GUN, Elliot." Minho hissed. His strong hands not letting go, until Elliot calmed down.

"I can put her out of her misery."

Vince cocked his gun. Elliot's ready to jump him again. Until a middle aged woman appeared from a tent, calling for Vince to stand down. She had long, flowing dark brown hair wearing a white doctor's coat. "What's going on?"

Vince nodded towards Brenda. "These kids brought a Crank here, Doctor."

She knelt to Brenda's level, examining her leg. "We can still save her…" Her eyes looked Edgar's way. Smiling ever light. "You there. What's your name?"

Edgar couldn't speak at that moment. Newt sighed softly beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "His name's Edgar. He has…well, I'm not sure what he has, but he only talks when it's needed."

"I see…selective mutism is quite common, among young people like yourselves. I saw you jump into action. You knew right away what was wrong with her. I need a few new hands, around..mind lending me one?"

His face flushed, as he turned towards his friends. Elliot gave him a thumbs up. Minho grinned his way. "Go for it, Doc."

Frypan and even Newt shared similar statements.

"Excellent…and hello, Thomas."

Thomas gazed at her in confusion. "Wait you know who I am?"

"They really did it to you, didn't they? I'm sure that he doesn't remember but when he was still in WICKED I received a transmission from him. He said he couldn't stand watching his friends die and he said he had enough. Thomas, you gave me the codes and coordinates to every single WICKED compound and lab. You made all of this possible."

Her words were baffling. Not just for Thomas, but for all of them. "Come on, we better take her to the medical tent. Thomas, Edgar."

Edgar carefully helped lift Brenda up, not before giving Newt a shy peck on his lips. "I know…you'll be back." Newt grinned. Rubbing his neck.


	15. And Then There Were None

Fire raged around them. People ran in terror as men garbed in WICKED armor marched. Grabbing hold of anyone they saw. Two strong arms take hold of Elliot. He struggled of course. Cussed. Spit.

But one shock from a taser in his side and he shut up. It stung. He imagined, very brief it must be what a Griever's sting felt like.

Boots hissed along the dirt grounds. Janson's grinning at him. Acting like he finally caught his prized possession. "Elliot…lovely to see you again."

"Go to hell." Elliot hissed.

"Still not happy to see me. Well, that'll all change, I assure. Put him in line."

He's on his knees beside Frypan. "Are you alright?" His old Keeper whispered.

"Fine…" he grumbled.

Minho, Newt and Edgar were placed before them as well. As were Aris, Sonya and Harriet. Thomas was the only one whom remained missing. Elliot gritted his teeth when his hair's grabbed and someone scanned his neck. "A-22!"

Another girl was grabbed. "B-22!"

So on and so forth.

Janson knelt to Elliot's level. Searching his eyes. "…Where's Thomas?"

"I. Don't. Know."

His head turned to one side. Minho scrambled to his knees, seeing blood trickle down the side of his boyfriend's head from Janson's assault. Newt had to keep him under control. "That is not the answer, I want. I know you're hiding him."

There's Janson's gun pointed at his forehead. Nobody dared move.

Elliot closed his eyes. Chest rising and falling.

"I'm right here!"

Thomas walked down a path, his arms above his head as guards grabbed hold. They dragged him towards the line, placing him beside Minho. "Why didn't you run?" He asked in a whisper.

"I'm tired of running."

Another Berg made its decent. Elliot closed his eyes as a bright white light shined down, when its hatch doors opened. A woman in white came down. "Chancellor Paige," Janson greeted, shaking her hand.

Her eyes traveled up and down the rows of young teens and children. "Is this all of them?"

"Those who survived."

She had an odd smile on her face, when she recognized Thomas. Greeting him as if they were old friends.

Elliot's gaze flicked upwards. His eyes widening, upon the sight of an all too familiar girl… "Teresa?" He gasped.

Teresa embraces Chancellor Paige. It makes him physically ill, when she shakes Janson's hand before greeting them. "Thank goodness you're all safe. Look, I know it sounds crazy…but it's the only way."

He can't even look at her the same way. All this time they viewed her as a friend, or in Thomas's case something more. Chancellor Paige stepped forward. "Listen to her. Your lives are important to mankind. I wouldn't have done this if I had no choice. The Flare is spreading and we need a cure. I'm a doctor and I swore an oath that I would find a cure, no matter the price."

Her words hung heavy in the air.

"And sacrifice many lives?"

Dr. Mary spoke up. All heads turn her way.

"You weren't like this when we worked together. You don't value lives anymore. You're willing to sacrifice an entire generation just to find a cure. I left WICKED for that very reason. I'm a doctor too but at least my conscience is clear."

All is silent. Until a gunshot echoed. Elliot turned away, the moment he saw blood form the front of Mary's shirt. Vince cried out, holding her lifeless body. "Load them all into the Berg. Execute the rest…"

Thomas had a secret weapon, Jorge's grenade in one hand. "I'm not going back there!" He stood in the center. Ava's face turned ghostly white.

"Thomas, no! She promised she wouldn't hurt us. She gave me her word." Teresa pleads.

"She's telling the truth, Thomas. That was her only condition." Ava confirmed.

"Why should we believe, anything you say?" Elliot retorted. Standing on shaken legs. He gripped Minho's hand tight. "Teresa…snap out of it. These people. They aren't interested, in a 'Cure'. They only want us, for their own selfish reasons."

His eyes shift towards Janson in particular.

"Eli's right. Thomas, do it." Minho stated.

"We're ready." Frypan nodded in agreement.

Thomas declared they weren't going back. Elliot closed his eyes, burying his head against Minho's chest. "I love you…" he whispered.

"I know…" he whispered back. "I love you, to."

But nothing happened.

All they heard, was the sound of a car crashing through. Driven by Jorge. By the look of it, he was enjoying himself perhaps more than he should have. Laughing like a loon. Crashing right into WICKED soldiers.

They scattered.

Ava hollered out orders, to get them into the Berg.

Janson grabbed hold of Elliot. They fought amidst the chaos, adrenaline is what fuels him. Elliot coughed as he held his stomach, from a fierce kick delivered into his side. "Yes," Janson hissed. His chest rising and falling. "Exactly how I like seeing you."

"Always knew you were a sadistic, son of a bitch," Elliot dared to spit out. Giving a round house kick.

He cried out when Janson took hold of his ankle, twisting at an ugly angle. He could hear its tendons snap.

Stupid move. Really stupid move. He cursed inward.

Over and over. Elliot could feel his vision blur and blood trickle down his head. Janson suffered only one black eye from a single punch he managed to finally get in.

When someone shot Janson in his shoulder.

Elliot's blue and green eyes lit up, to discover its Brenda. With a rifle pointed directly at Janson and a big grin on her face.

"…I owe you. Big time." He grinned.

He thought he heard Newt cry out Edgar's name in panic. The poor guy's been grappled and dragged. He actually hollers Newt's name, as he struggled and squirm to no avail.

"Come on! Let's move!" Minho shot and fired at multiple soldiers. Their bodies squirmed, from the powerful electric shock coursing through their system.

"Minho, retreat!" Elliot cried out, as Brenda helped him to his feet.

His stomach churned violently. The soldiers closed in.

And Minho's down.

His body went into a frenzy. Two soldiers snagged him by the arms.

Elliot bellowed out his name, but he to is taken. He struggled and squirmed. His side feels as thouh fire licks at his skin. And then, darkness takes over his vision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double update tonight <3 I edited a tiny bit of this chapter, because my The Death Cure chapters are a lot different than what I originally wrote. I originally intended for it to be just Minho, but gears would not stop turning for Elliot to be involved due to his 'relationship' with Janson. 
> 
> Buckle up.


	16. Imprisoned

_They looked at him as if he had lost his mind. In some ways, Elliot's really beginning to question his sanity. But this was no time for questions. Only action. His blue and green eyes shift towards Minho. Unconscious. An electric shock, will do that to you. And then, they shift back to his friends._

_Newt's jaw clenched right up._

_Edgar looked as if, he couldn't breathe._

_Frypan was pale in the face. Eyes wide._

_Brenda looked furious, while Jorge remained almost stoic._

_And Thomas?_

_Thomas walked up to him. Slowly. He placed his hand, on Elliot's shoulder. "You're sure?" he mouthed. "That this is…?"_

_"It's Minho, Thomas. I have to…it's for Minho." His voice almost broke that night. It got worse, when his friend pulled him in a tight embrace. So much so, it's almost suffocating._

_"Alright, that's quite enough. We're all so joyous, you've seen the light, Elliot." Janson declared with pride. Teresa's face held an equal look, of true excitement. Elliot can't handle looking her way. Not now. "Now…. load him up. C'mon."_

**~/////~**

Elliot's eyes flutter open as that memory, from months prior came to be. Strapped down to a table. "This will hurt a bit, Elliot. Relax." A man's voice spoke. He had an Irish accent, like Elliot's. The needle dug into his arm. He threw his head back. Gasping ever soft. Minho was beside him, in another chair.

His hand immediately latched onto his. The man would always say, how if it would hurt, be really hot or really cold. A kindly voice. Not unlike others, who worked here.

"It burns…"

"I know, I know."

"Just relax, Eli. Like he said. Breathe." Minho whispered.

Minho. God. It didn't feel right, him being here. Elliot had tried convincing Janson, that if he was here then there's no real need for Minho. Of course, the assistant director wouldn't give an inch.

The doctor with his accent, smiled his way after it was done. "You're all set, lads."

A guard came in for them both. One for Elliot. The other for Minho. Pushed into a room, that metal door slammed shut. All is quiet.

It's quiet for some time, until Minho spoke finally. His dark, always intense eyes met with Elliot. "What the shuck, were you thinking?"

He wasn't angry. Elliot knew whenever he got angry. "In all honesty, Minho? I wasn't thinking. My only real thought, at that moment, was to be here with you. So you wouldn't have, to suffer on your own….I love you. Too much."

There's a hand on his left cheek. Minho cupped it, raising his face upwards. "I love you to, even though you're a shuck-face."

His grin brought a warmth through Elliot. Their lips touched. Hands begin to wander. Lips find a neck to latch onto. Or a shoulder blade. It's too dangerous to go any further. They'll get caught.

And being watched, no doubt.

**~******~**

A knock could be heard on Elliot's door, come morning. He squinted, not liking the thought of his sleep disturbed so soon. Someone slid their key card through. It clicked open.

Still in his dark blue 'Property of WICKED' t-shirt and black pants, his heart felt as if it jumped from his chest. Janson's at his door. Leant up against the doorway.

He stood as if he'd been invited, before walking closer towards Elliot. "Cooperating well, I see."

"Not like I have, a real choice here." Elliot muttered.

There's a red mark on his left face. Head turned to one side. "I'm not in the mood, for your games today, Elliot. Your friends. Where are they?"

Elliot stood defiant as ever. Shaking his head 'no'. "You think, I'm really going to give their location? Thought you'd be smarter than that, Rat Man."

"Rat Man. How original. I've been called 'douchebag', 'asshole', 'dickhead'. That one, will stick."

Janson did not seem fazed at all. His expression is totally blasé. "Must you teens, be so dramatic? It's no wonder, we named you after a famous writer/theater writer. If you'll just give me intel, on The Right Arm's location, I promise your stay here will be almost, as if you're at a resort."

"Why don't you go ask Teresa?" Elliot bit out. "She'd know more, than I would."

"Teresa alone is not enough. The connection she had with Thomas was incredible, but it has been severed unfortunately. She means nothing to him, now. Tell me, Elliot, did you have a connection?"

Fear pooled his belly. He grimaced. "I had one, with everybody in The Maze. Alby. Chuck. Edgar-."

His face turned white. A cottage cheese pale. An actual screen capture, of himself and Minho when they kissed at a Bonfire night. His hands couldn't stop shaking. Tears almost threatened.

"Subject A7…Minho. I have high doubts; you did not do this with just anyone."

"You unimaginable bastard…"

Janson's lips curved into a smile, that reminded Elliot strongly of the villains in old children's tales he could remember reading. "There's no mistaking it, you two held an undeniable bond. Those tender touches, after Minho getting Stung. Call me every name in the book, Elliot. Scream. Hit me if you so wish."

He did nothing.

For once, Elliot remained as he was. Vacant in the face. Or perhaps, he was tired of it all to simply put. This stunned Janson in truth.

He watches as the boy collapsed on his knees. Shaking his head. "Do whatever you want, string me up like a set of lights. Take out my organs, whatever. I can handle it."

For a split second, a foolish second, Elliot thought he saw just a touch of compassion. But none is given in return.

"My guards will be here short, for your first test. Minho's almost wrapped his up."

Elliot willed himself not to let a single sob escape from him. He felt sick. Jesus, did he feel sick to his stomach.

As soon as Minho's brought back in, he's taken right back out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we go, Gladers! The final installment. I had an original draft that was up, but when I looked it over I felt it could have been done so much better. It will be movie based with book detail of course, as I just finished TDC novel.  
> You'll also get to see more of my other OC, Edgar if you liked him. Considering with what Newt's going through I thought it'd be alright if I had them in it more. During the chapters, where Minho and Elliot won't be in. (MinEli is the ship name, by the way and NewEd.)
> 
> Also, I wanted to note that my chapters are all written out before I post them. Hence, a reason why I'm sometimes able to have an update schedule. Key word: Sometimes.


	17. Simulation

They put him in a fake Maze. With a Stung Minho simulation. Perhaps one of the most frightening, things Elliot's put up of. Sometimes he lived. Sometimes he died. All for the sake of drawing his blood.

He couldn't see Minho, but he could hear him alright. Plain as day in that other room just _screaming_ . Imagining that same white machine over his head. Strapped down to a chair. With HER watching.

Yes, he saw Teresa again. All prettied up with clean clothes and washed up hair, observing them from behind glass windows. God. Was he tired, after that 'simulation'. He still found it hard to imagine, they were in an actual city. Not demolished ruins like of San Francisco. They couldn't go out of course and not like, he would want to.

"There's people out there, who hate Immunes. Call people like us 'Munies'," One doctor said to him, as Elliot finished up his drink. Flinching at another scream, coming from Minho.

 _Please…Just let me see him again. Please_ "Lovely thought. Now, Minho. When can I see him?"

The male doctor looked hesitant. Frowning almost. "I'm afraid that won't be possible, Elliot. Janson has strict orders around here, that must be followed. Now, I want you to relax…easy now…."

Elliot hissed when a needle's placed in his arm. It punctures his skin and bruises instantly. He closes his eyes, not wishing to see them take his blood. "There, you're all set."

He's given a glass of tomato juice. To replenish his blood, or something like that Elliot figured. The coolness felt good down his throat. This man. He seemed so humane around here. Like a true doctor would behave.

When he's escorted out, his chest aches.

Minho's eyes are so heavy. His shoulders are slumped. He doesn't even look Elliot's way, when they walk past each-other. Though he did touch his hand. Only once and it was quick.

 _He's all I have now. We're in the same building and can't even, see each-other_ He doesn't remember what happened to Thomas and the others. It was chaotic when they, were taken. A tazer in your side will do that. Make you lose consciousness, if it's enough voltage. Black you out for a while.

A guard roughly shoves him inside his window less, white room. Even when lights are off, it's still annoying bright.

Sleep doesn't come.

Not like it used to, in The Glade or even in The Scorch.

He could picture it. But it's not the same thing.

Tears prickle behind his eyes. Refusing himself not to shed one tear, knowing they're watching. _They'll take this as a form of weakness…I can't allow that in me. Not now._ His breath hitches in his throat.

Laying himself out, he grips his pillow tight. Pressing the side of his face against it, as he tries to picture his friends again. And Minho.

He should be used to it by now. Waking without Minho at his side. It feels as if, all life from within is deteriorating. They're worried he isn't eating enough, now. Each time he tries to bite into their bland meals, he only eats half hazardly. This of course prompted a beating, for a lack of cooperation.

"You should eat…"

His glossy eyes looked over. This was one of those rare times, they could see each-other. At lunch or dinner. Breakfast is a simple protein 'smoothie' or shake. Bland in every step of the way.

"I'm not hungry." Elliot muttered simply.

Minho snapped. He slammed his hands against the table, drew his face close to Elliot's and hissed. "Eat. The shuckin' food. Now."

Elliot's eyes became narrowed, he flinched back. And ate an apple. This wouldn't be the first time they 'fought' over his eating habits. Back in The Glade, Minho freaked one day when he almost fainted.

Knew it had to be, from Elliot's lack of nutrients that he couldn't just gain from vegetables or fruit alone.

On Minho's end, he wanted to hold him. Tell him that everything was going to be okay again. But it wouldn't, so long as they were still here.

**~////~**

Dr. Collin called it a night, at about nine pm. He put a mask on over his mouth, as was precaution to do. He lived in a complex not far from WICKED HQ. Quite a fancy one at that. Courtesy of Ava Paige.

He was a relatively average in looks, male. Black hair with a touch of grey, at the ends. Blue eyes. Olive skin.

Unlike most 'doctors' here, he actually does feel sorry for these poor kids. His heart almost shattered when he saw Elliot and Minho. They looked too good for this world. Too innocent and bright. *Maybe not innocent, for he remembers what his teenage years were and they're anything but*. But regardless. Good kids all the same, in his eyes.

Collin carried these thoughts, as he walked. Relieved he no longer, had to put up with Janson's foolishness for that day. His stomach churned always just at the sight of him.

Come reaching his apartment, after unlocking its door he pushed it open.

There's a picture on his desk as he walks by. Of a woman with her arms, wrapped around his shoulders from behind. Head tilted against his. They look to be at the front of a movie theater. And they're both smiling bright. There's another one, with himself and Janson. Both holding a graduation certificate, honoring Collin's degree in medicine.

_He used to be a good person._

_He wasn't always like this._

That's what he tried to tell himself, anyway. He was never really all there, at least, when The Flare happened he wasn't. At one point, he had been a good man like Collin. Until WICKED came into the picture.

It's always WICKED.

As Collin slept that night, in a dream filled sleep, in his cozy little apartment. Two boys meanwhile, were being beaten. One with the will to keep living. And the other, feeling drained by the day.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we have another new OC. Collin will play a fairly big role in Elliot and Minho's trial so expect to see him more. Somewhat more humane than other workers of WICKED. /I really dislike Janson, so he will be as unlikeable as possible throughout most of this story/.


	18. City

Sleep was not on his side. Elliot didn't think it ever would again, in truth. He did everything imaginable he could do. Jog in place. Jump up and down. Anything, that was not considered maddening.

His eyes traveled up towards the vents. "No. Too risky…they probably don't even, go anywhere." He murmured.

He's hyperventilating. The walls feel too closed in, around him. His nails dug into his hand's palms, just to feel something besides being trapped. Looking at himself in a mirror, Elliot almost panicked when he saw his white hair. They say on her death bed, Marie Antoinette's hair became a striking white, color because of her amount of sheer stress.

The mirror's almost thrown against a wall. But he didn't want, Janson or someone like him barging in.

A week later, they meet in the cafeteria. He wanted to cry when he saw how beaten down, Minho was. It looked just like something out of his simulations. A hollow shell, of the real Minho.

"How bad was it? Your simulation?"

"Wasn't sunshine and fluffy unicorns, that's for sure."

Elliot's lips curved some into a smile, as he took a small bite out of his cauliflower. _At least they couldn't take his sarcasm away_ "Didn't think unicorns were 'fluffy' exactly."

Minho gave a tiny grin, pushing his fork around on his tray of half eaten sweet potatoes. "Unicorn expert strikes again. See you haven't lost your love, for 'em."

He laughed. And Minho followed. His stomach actually hurt to laugh, in all honesty. It was something he hadn't had in a good, long time. It felt like years or centuries. Elliot's eyes closed as he allowed, calloused fingers to run through his hair.

"It's so weird. What condition did you say it was, again?" He didn't want this touch to end, it felt too damn good. He craved even the simplest of touches, from Minho more than ever.

"They used to call it 'Marie Antoinette Syndrome'. You know, the woman whom had her head cut off, by a guillotine? Her hair was stark white that night before. Extreme levels of stress can do it."

Minho stopped to his dislike. They're being watched. He could tell, the way his shoulders slumped. His head lowered. "Wish our buddies out there, hurry it the shuck up." He grumbled.

"Hey, I know it's…damned difficult to think, but I have a feeling they're close. Thomas isn't a quitter."

They were. They WERE working on a rescue. Brenda no doubt to, was doing whatever she could.

The guards decided it's enough. Two grabbed Elliot by his arms, leading him out of the cafeteria. And right to Janson.

**~/////~**

It's as if The Grievers never attacked it. Warm rays of light shine forth through the clouds. As if that one mental torture was bad enough. It smelled exactly the same. The trees felt real to his touch.

Everything's quiet. An uncomfortable silence.

A twig snapped. Whirling on his heel, Minho could see a familiar set of bright red hair. And a figure looking his way. "No…" he whispered. Shaking his head. His chest rising and falling, as 'Elliot' lurks towards him. His face into that of a smile.

"Min. There you are, hey we're having a Bonfire tonight. I could use some help."

He smacked him.

It echoes across The Glade.

Several boys, whom he thought were dead looked at him. States of utter shock crossed their faces. "Minho…I only wanted, your help." Elliot whispered. Rubbing his red cheek.

"Shut up," he hissed. God he couldn't stop shaking. "Just shut up. You aren't real."

"I can't believe you hit Eli," Newt chimed in. His face scrunched in disgust. "Always knew you were a hot head, but that's a low blow."

Edgar nodded in silent agreement and shame.

"I'd say he's finally lost his marbles," Gally added. Narrowing his eyes. One arm wrapped around Elliot's shoulders. "You alright?"

"I will be…with HIM gone."

Minho's heart rate accelerated. Tears flowed free from his eyes, down his face. Scenes changed. Instead of himself and Elliot, walking throughout The Glade it's him and Gally, while he's trapped in The Slammer. "It's not real, it's all in my head…all in my head," over and over he repeats this. "Shuck…Shuck please stop. Please…"

Again and again.

Over and over.

One sick image came forth, of Gally and Elliot in a heated, passionate kiss. Touching and groping. "Get away from him!" He bellowed out in sobs.

Now he's in a dark corridor.

A Griever's hot on his tail.

He's flung up against the ceiling, trapped like a rat. He can feel the Griever's metal claws strike his shoulders. Screams escaped but no one can hear. He doesn't even see the torchlight in his eye. "Incredible, Miss. Teresa, the technology you have invented allows them to experience those events, in The Maze as if they're taking place. The trials weren't even needed." The scientist smiled her way.

Teresa gave a faint one back, as they remove Minho from his contraption. All for the sake of drawing his blood. Her heart ripped apart in the process. Hell, it's not as if she's okay with it.

How could she be? He and Elliot her friends, after all…or used to be.

**~//////~**

Newt's breath hitched in his throat again. Edgar could hear it, even before his eyes burst open. He turned him gently over. Holding Newt's hand in his. God did it feel so cold. An almost unnatural, icy touch.

Little dark veins etched onto either side, of Newt's face when he turned it over. "Breathe. Come on, breath for me, James." Edgar whispered.

Brown eyes almost rolled up to his head. His body went into a mini convulsion, while Edgar pinned his legs together. Un fazed as black liquid's coughed out. Finally, moments later, was he able to breathe again.

Calm as he may be on the outside, Edgar feels as if a storm of worry on the inside. Being a former Med Jack after all, he sort of become 'used' in a way, to shocking situations. An injured leg. Broken arm. Perhaps an ingrown nail or two. This was something, he couldn't figure out.

Newt eventually settled. Short breaths escaping, as he clasped his hands around Edgar's. "Thank you, Edgar…bloody hell….glad you're on, our side."

Edgar's lips managed a small smile. Threading his fingers in Newt's, rather soft blond locks. He's out within moments. Nestled in Edgar's arms. Unaware the crystal blue, running down his beloved's face.

 

**~/////~**

Collin allowed them to see each-other. Only this one time. He watched as Minho, took Elliot in his arms. Holding him tight. Whispering sweet nothings in his ear. A small smile crept over the doctor's face, not understanding really why he should feel happy about this. It's dangerous. An act of treason. It couldn't be found out.

Elliot looked from their embrace, towards this inhumanly kind man. "I've but one question, Dr. Collin."

"Go on." He urged with a nod.

"Why are you allowing this? Knowing your risk and all…of getting caught."

The good doctor did not hesitate, with his response. "You remind me, of my son. That is all."

It's simple and quick. But he could see their confusion. An expected response he supposed.

"Ten minutes. I'm afraid that's all I can give, or else they'll get suspicious." There's no need for an explanation who 'they' are.

Minho took Elliot's hands in his own. Staring, in an almost adult like fashion into his beloved's blue and green eyes. "I promise; I'll keep you safe somehow. If they do anything. So much as leave a scar. Their shuckin' asses, will be kicked."

Elliot's response was quite similar. "Trust when I say, they better watch themselves. You get hurt, I'll come running."

Collin cleared his throat, when their lips touched. Minho gave two quick kisses, cupping Elliot's left cheek. Elliot touched his right one. Their eyes look into one another's, for one more moment. It wasn't a goodbye. No. They never said that, to each-other.

Goodbye meant you were going and never, coming back. He could see their love, feel it circle around that small room. Even when Elliot left with him.

He could see tears prickle behind the boys eyes, wiping them away with his shirt sleeve. "Ready for your next test?"

"Yes, doctor. I am…"

**~//////~**

A protest was outside The City's walls. Drones of infected or non-immune citizens could be seen, by the dozen. They were being watched. Edgar could feel it, as he gripped Newt's arm.

When he hissed, pulling away, he shot Edgar a warning look. "Not a word to anyone." He whispered.

A brief look of hurt crossed over. "…I won't. Newt, I-I still think…you should at least…"

"What did I just say, Edgar?" Newt snapped. "This is not your bloody business."

Edgar's face flushed a bright shade. He didn't even call him Eddie, like he usually does. "It damn well is, excuse me for being concerned about you." He pulled away from Newt to be over, with Frypan and Thomas. His hands shaking in his pockets.

Newt was changing. Minute by minute. He had half a mind, calling him a _Saukerl_ , German insult towards a man. But that is only ever done in light-hearted manner.

That is when he got separated. There were so many, he couldn't see any of them. Edgar's heart raced. Whispering Thomas's name.

Relief swelled when he jogged over to someone, but it wasn't his friend. "Oh shit…" he cursed.

"Hey. You!"

A voice called out.

 _Double shit…WICKED's here to. Fan-shuckin' tastic._ Act calm, his thoughts warned. Just act calm.

He weaved his way through the crowds. Panic swelling from within. He hated busy areas like this, in the crevice of his lost memories he could see himself as a young boy lost in such crowd. Only in a mall.

And the concerned faces, of a certain blond haired pair of siblings and their parents.

Someone grabbed hold, of his arm.

He gritted his teeth. Balling his free hand into a fist, he reared it back only for the person to grab hold fast.

"Get…off…me!!"

No way was he going to let them take him. Not again. He dropped to the ground quick. His right leg swooped out. The masked person jumped just inches, but he was caught off guard having leapt too little too late.

Edgar's running at break neck speed, as explosions rang in his ears. Hollering for his friend's, not caring at this point whom heard him.

"Please be alright. Please…No-!"

He's grabbed again. This time they held his legs together, hauling him towards a truck parked in an alley. Tossed inside none too gentle, he's surprised upon discovery that it's Thomas and Brenda.

"You alright? Hey…Look at us," Thomas shook his shoulder slight.

His hands shook, when Brenda took hold of one and Thomas his other. "Edgar…Come on. You're alright. Snap out of it."

Deep breaths.

Deep breaths.

"Sorry, I…I thought it…Who are these people?" Thomas shook his head when asked such question.

   A half an hour later their doors were yanked open and they were, dragged non too gently out. One of them looked oddly familiar. Annoying familiar. "Who the hell are you?" Thomas hollered.

The guy sighed, lowering his hands to his sides.

It's a ghost from their past. Someone they thought to be long since dead, after he killed Chuck. Edgar doesn't have to close his eyes to see it. Gally, with his hand on that gun. Chuck with blood staining his shirt. Dying in his arms. He didn't know what to do, when Thomas launched himself at him. Punching him in the face. It took Newt to hold him back.

   "What the hell are you doing here? I thought you were dead," Newt asked.

Gally rolled his eyes, rubbing his bruised cheek. "Well, you left me for dead. These guys found me and patched me up once they found out I was Immune. Been here ever since. Where's Minho? Elliot?"

"…Taken. By WICKED." Edgar finally found his voice.

Gally's hands clenched around his rifle. In a state of his own shock. "Shit. Really?"

Thomas nodded once. His jaw clenched firm. "We're here to find them. Help us get into the city."

Surprising enough, Gally agreed. "Well I can help with that," he stated. "But first you have to see the guy in charge of all of this. But mind you, he doesn't like visitors so let me do the talking. Don't look at anything, or anyone either. You see something? Push it out of your thoughts."

Edgar said 'yes'. Still in his own stupor state, that he's alive.

**~/////~**

Terrible noises float through the air. Giggles and wails. Crying. "Rose took my nose…I'm sure she did. I need a new nose." Cackles followed. Back and forth the Cranks walked. Edgar stiffened beside him.

Newt didn't even hold his hand like they usually did. "Hey, don't look alright? It's not a pretty sight." Gally warned them, to keep their heads down. The sounds of someone retching followed. Air smelled like shit.

"You act like you're used to it," Edgar muttered.

"After a while, yeah…"

They don't talk much. At all really. He could see Gally's shoulders stiffen up. "…I'm sorry. I know it's no excuse, they were controlling me. Right?"

"You're helping us now. That's all that matters."

Before they could move further, Edgar paused. He thought someone had been following them. Looking down, his eyes soften upon a little boy. He wasn't a Crank. Just a normal, sickly boy. His hand held out.

Gally maneuvered through them, kneeling to the kid's level. "I promise, we'll have more food later. Go back to your parents…they need you." He spoke so soft and careful. Edgar couldn't believe this was THE Gally.

"Poor kid…" Thomas mused. His lips set in a hard line. "Isn't there anything, we can do?"

"Yeah. Beat the shuckin' hell out of those WICKED goons. That's what we can do." Frypan declared, obviously nerved by the scenery taking place.

 

 


	19. Old Acquaintences

He still didn't know what to think about Gally being alive. It was all too surreal. He died and was Stung, last Edgar checked you don't come from something like that usually even with a Cure. Minho did, but that was when they had a serum of some sort.

Newt still wasn't talking much to him, at all. The Flare's eating away at him. Bit by bit he could see that much.

Upon entering one part, they stopped when a man could be seen. He looked to be in his forties at the most. Thick hair that reminds Edgar, of a certain Glader only a darker shade rather than red. Pale blue eyes.

Wearing a white lab coat.

"Hang on. Gally that's a-." Thomas began, only for Newt to start coughing violently.

He doubled over on his knees. Shaking like a leaf. Edgar's heart raced, as he held his shoulders and tried coaxing him not to roll over.

A crowd began to form around them. The man pushed his way through. "Here, let me take care of him. Please."

"Why should we trust you?" Brenda bit out. "You're with WICKED."

The man merely smiled her way. Shaking his head. "Just trust me. I know what I'm doing."

Edgar for some reason listened as he spoke. Taking Newt's trembling hand in his, he watches as with expertise the man moved his fingers across his stomach. Paying no heed to his black veins that danced across.

"Gally, we need to get him to Lawrence. I've something that could at least, halt it."

"Got it. Newt, hey buddy can ya walk alright on your own?"

With his and Edgar's help, Newt nodded numbly. Allowing this man. This stranger, to take him.

**~//////~**

Collin felt his heart drop when he saw just how many, were outside The City's walls. Too many for a little 'security'. Someone must have knew, that they are still alive despite Janson's bomb attempt.

"You…remind me of someone."

Newt's voice surprised him, as he and Gally led them along. A faint smile danced across his face. "A shank named Elliot. He…always liked, helping others out."

Edgar rolled his eyes some. " _A_ _rschgrobbler_ (1) . You speak as if, he is dead."

"Ah. Call me that in public, again Eddie. We'll see…where it…" another cough rasps out. Collin didn't mind the black substance pouring out of his mouth. He was 'used' to it after all.

Arriving at a small housing complex, Collin motioned Newt on a raggedy couch that had seen better days.

"Collin, my old friend. And Gally…I see you've brought, your friends."

The man frightens Edgar. He couldn't lie. There's black markings across one side of his face. An IV bag is connected, with an amber colored liquid inside. Like the Cranks outside, he too did not have a nose.

"Lawrence, I need it. Now." Not wasting time, he caught a syringe in his left hand effortlessly. Collin flashed Newt a pitiful look. "It's going to burn, but, it will help some. A special I've cooked up."

"Please, mate. Anything'll help." Newt moaned out. No shame in holding, Edgar's hand.

It did look as Collin said it would. The needle punctured his arm. It took Thomas and Frypan, to hold Newt down so his skin wouldn't tear open, from the thrashing.

"I can get you into the city…but I am also a businessman." He walked closer to them. Eyes not once, leaving. "And business always calls, for a trade. Two will go into the City, with Gally."

"Why not all of us?" Brenda challenged.

"You want to get into the city don't you? Too many will draw attention. If you want, your precious friends back after all." His grin was wide. Some teeth were missing.

It's a wonder Thomas didn't gag at his stench, as the deal is made. "Well then, Gally, bring our visitors to the city," he said. Hobbling along with his support. Gally knelt to a porthole, lifting it up. Light came out, as he climbed down first.

"Don't cause any trouble…" Thomas said with a small grin.

Brenda gave a faint one in return, nodding once.

Thomas and Newt would go. The syringe Collin gave him, kicked in, in a matter of minutes. His face looked a tad less pale than earlier. Before Newt climbed down, he took Edgar's hand in his. "I'm sorry…Eddie." None will know what he meant, but Edgar did. A brief kiss was shared.

"Just make it back, you _Saukerl_." (2).

Newt's face almost lit up, before Gally hollers at him to hurry it up. Brenda scoots over for him to sit.

Jorge stood up to make room.

"Now…we wait." The older male sighed.

Edgar gave the man a warning glare, when he approached. Fiddling with the knife Alby gave him. "He does not have much time left…"

"I know." Edgar muttered. "I'm not stupid."

The man chuckled. He couldn't tell if it was humorous or not. "'Good' Dr. Collin's serum can help, but it only slows it down. In due time, he will be just as I am…" he gestured to his deformed face.

Edgar's eyes blazed. Gripping the end of his weapon tight. "Newt's stronger than you think…I believe he'll make it, for as long as he can hold out. You don't know him, like we do. Like I do."

"Foolish thoughts. Infection spreads rapidly. Why, it's only a matter of mere hours before-." He couldn't finish, for Edgar leapt up. He pins the man down. Knife at his throat, his nostrils flare like a mad bull's.

"EDGAR!!"

Frypan panicked, hoisting him up off Lawrence whom chuckles after the assault. Edgar's chest rose and fell quickly. "I'm alright…" he whispered. "Just keep that dirt bag away from me."

Frypan blinked in confusion. Looking their way. "…I think we're all just out exhausted. Let's rest, before they get back." Jorge suggested with a sigh.

Sleep. Maybe that's all he needed.

~*******~

Newt didn't know how much time, they had left. It's eating away by this point. A curse. Like some old hag put a curse, on him. He'd finally told Thomas once they returned, on the rooftop come morning.

His skin feels as if it's on fire. The very flares of the sun, burn. More veins began to appear across his face, much like Gally's 'friend'. When he returned to Edgar that night, he found him held up in a room. Arms folded around his legs that are pulled up to his chin. The bed sank some, when Newt sat down. It wasn't very big.

His lips found Edgar's. They were warm and dry.

Edgar had squirmed at first. But Newt held him close, not by force. He could feel his tears on his face. He kissed his jaw, where a small scar could be seen down his throat. Edgar's hands trembled, as they pushed his shirt off. Newt's far from someone made out of muscle, he wasn't the Minho type. But he could see he had developed, perhaps a few abs since being in The Glade.

Newt's thoughts drift to their very first 'kiss'. A kiss that was spurred on, of course by Winston pushing Edgar and Newt just happened to be walking by. The whole Glade fell in a silence. Except for Minho cheering them on. And Elliot whacking him, in the back of his head.

His fingers danced along Edgar's naked thighs. His eyes are clouded, when he bucks up just slight into him.

They kissed again. Edgar's hands teasing wander. One to Newt's chest. The other down there.

It hurt at first.

Even after Edgar was prepped. Tears stung his eyes. He sucked air through his teeth, when Newt moved. "No," he whispered when Newt stops immediately. "No…I want this. I want you."

"It'll be hurting…you're sure?"

"Yes, James…please."

He called him by his real name. A shudder ran up Newt's spine, before nodding.

Newt spread his legs. The Flare tended to make him a more aggressive person, which he was not. Edgar will have bruises later on.

Fingers played with his stone necklace, being the only thing Edgar was wearing. He could feel him shift and hear whimpers escape. Hands ghosting his body. A shudder of his own crept forth, when the usually shy boy kissed along his neck.

Lips burn against his skin.

Newt's lips pull back, in an almost feral smile. Holding Edgar's shoulders. His hands on his hips, gripping tight.

It's Newt he's seeing. He doesn't see those black veins. Or that wild look in his chocolate brown eyes.

They laid beside each other naked after. Newt held him close, stroking his back. Feeling Edgar's face against his chest. "I love you, Eddie…always."

"I love you to, James…no matter what happens."

For the rest of the night it's talking and laughing.

But then, he grinned. In a way that was so unlike him. "Once we kill Teresa and get Minho and Elliot back, we can live on that island…"

"Did you find him?" Oh he was scared, alright. There's a different look, in Newt's eyes. An aura unlike any he's felt before.

"No. But we found her." He seethed at the last part. Causing Edgar to flinch, slipping his shirt back on. Bloody shank knew it was her. That she's the key, for their safety…and he didn't say a word. Not ONE. How can he STILL trust her? After all she's done?"

He slammed his fist against the wall, startling Edgar. "Newt…killing Teresa…that won't-."

He's already on him before he could finish. Hands on either side of Edgar's head. His eyes. God. His eyes. "Got a bloody crush on her to? Huh?!"

"Newt-!"

"Don't look away from me!"

Edgar gasped when his jaw's held bruising tight. Memories from The Glade crept up. Nobody knew then, that Newt wasn't immune. Except him, Edgar of course.

"Stop this. You're sick. Please, just talk to me."

Edgar's pleas go ignored. "Mind your own business, Edgar. I swear, I'll kill you if you so much as say one word." He hissed, running a hand down his face. Shaking his head. "No. No I-I don't…mean…"

Edgar shushed him. His heart still racing, pushing himself up away from the wall. "Liebe (3)…let's just head back, to the others. Alright?"

But, as Newt left the room, Edgar for the first time since he came up in The Box cried. Softly. Burying his head in his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The German word arschgrobbler literally translates, into 'ass scratcher': I'm very rusty, but after reading The Book Thief plus watching, the film, I had a strong notion to show Edgar's German kick in. Of course, this insult like Saukerl (which I think, is the male word for 'pig'?) are used in a teasing manner, towards Newt…. though in this situation, pretty sure Edgar wanted to call him something stronger. 
> 
> Liebe (3) = Love. 
> 
> And I could not resist showing the frustration Edgar has now, because of Newt's condition. It's absolutely draining to watch a loved one suffer, from an illness so I hope I portrayed that on a realistic level.


	20. Escape

Minho admired Elliot in more ways than one. His ability to stay focused, being one of them. Even after all those beatings, he did not once give in. Determination could still be seen in his eyes, as Dr. Collin cleaned up the blood on his left temple.

Nimble fingers worked with expertise, as he stitched a cut in place. "Years of practice, is all. My mother all but pushed me, into the position of a doctor. Didn't want to at first. It took only a young girl, to change my thoughts."

"What happened to her?" Elliot asked. Grimacing. Holding Minho's hand, with no shame.

"Bear attack. Tore her left arm, near off its socket. It was strange really, as if I'd been born to do so. The way her eyes looked into mine. And she held my hand. Whispering a tear filled 'thank you', that's when I knew, I had a purpose in the world. To help others and their pain."

"So why are you, with WICKED then?" Minho challenged, ignoring his partner's warning look. "They aren't like a children's hospital."

He didn't respond.

Elliot supposed that's normal. They were still being watched, if word got out Collin had any second thought being here. He didn't want to think, what those results could end as.

Newt was changing minute by minute. It confused Edgar, Thomas could see. He snapped more, a stark contrast from their night together. With their meeting adjourned about Teresa, Thomas went to check on Edgar.

"…Holding up, Eddie?" He asked softly. Joining his friend on a couch.

Edgar nodded. Holding his wrist, that had been grabbed bruising tight by Newt. "'M'fine…I guess. Fine as I'll ever be."

"He's got it. Doesn't he?"

The weak smile on Edgar's face said it all. Licking his lips, Thomas shook his head. "Christ, Edgar. How long has it been?"

"He admitted it was months. He figured they'd leave him to die…well, that didn't happen. Not yet, anyway."

Thomas's mind flashed to his Brenda. If she could survive, who's to say Newt couldn't as well? "Brenda. She made it. I believe Newt can to. It was my blood that saved her."

Edgar barked out a laugh. For a moment, he regrets bringing up hopeful conversation. How could one possibly have ANY hope? With their loved one withering away, from a ravenous disease? "And who else would give him that? Newt's changing, Thomas. I'm not a moron, I see it every day. For all we know, he could become like that Crank we just saw any minute…"

He's shaking. And before long, crying. Thomas hugged him tight, wishing none of this was their life. That he could somehow turn back time and prevent all this. Edgar didn't care he was crying. There seems to be a stigma, young men have to be strong in times of dire straits. He's breaking. It doesn't take much, to see it.

It took a moment to realize as well, this was their first real moment of bonding. He found it sad in a sense. That losing his friend and Edgar's beloved, was what it took to reach this point.

Thoughts turn through his mind.

He looks over at each of his friends. From Thomas and Brenda, to Newt, to Frypan, Jorge and Gally.

He knows now. What is to be done.

**~/////~**

Weeks have passed. Thoughts of rescue have since been drained, entirely from his system. The only sanity Elliot truly had, were Minho and Dr. Collin. Call him stupid or insane, trusting a guy who works with WICKED, he just does.

He's had the oddest of dreams lately.

Two faceless adults, holding onto his hands when he's a young boy. Walking him along, down by some beach.

He hadn't said anything to Minho about it. Didn't want to worry him, even more he supposed. It was weird. A familiar kind of weird.

Visitors were allowed inside, apparently. Teresa came by, to bring his food. And another shot go figure. "You act as if, I still like you." He muttered. Perhaps cold hearted in another's view point.

She flinched as if he'd smacked her. Pretty red lips turned into a frown. "Eli. I'm not asking much out of you. Or Minho. Can't you at least try and see, what these people are doing is for a Cure? It can save everyone of us."

"Selected ones, Teresa. That's the key word. Selected. Sure a Crank, didn't bite you in The Scorch?"

Teresa sighed. Her hands folded in her lap. Clenched. "I'm sorry, for everything. For Thomas. For Edgar. Minho."

There was something in her eyes, when she mentioned Edgar's name. He recalled something Chuck had said, when they were escaping The Maze. "Teresa. You should go."

"I know how he feels for you. And how he always will. I'm sorry…that it had to be, this way."

That was enough. Elliot shoved his tray aside, his arms shook at his sides. Some guards rushed in when they heard the commotion. She slipped something in his pocket, blue eyes solemn and thoughtful. Oddly calm, despite this situation. Watching as her companion, was dragged away into his room.

 

**~/////~**

 

"You never disappoint me, Elliot."

"Aw, feeling's oh so mutual."

"There's no way, we're gonna let you do this." Minho growled, swinging his legs off the bed he previous laid back on.

"Gee Minho, it's another lie from WICKED! What a shock." Elliot feigned a gasp.

"We don't have a choice. I understand you two have seen it all. Your friends dying, you can't change that. But wouldn't it be a waste? To ignore such a perfect blueprint?" Janson droned on. Cupping Elliot's chin in his hand.

He flinched of course. Minho's eyes burned Janson's way. "We're so close, to that Cure. You've been willing before."

Elliot swats Janson's hand off of his face. "Yeah, because you brainwashed us."

A sigh escaped Janson's lips. "I see. Not willing to listen….very well. If you want it the hard way, Elliot."

With a snap of his fingers, Elliot's carted off.

The timing couldn't have been perfect. Elliot could hear gunshots and rapid fire out in WICKED's hallways. Screams echoed through all corridors. Sweat dripped from his forehead, as he thought of his friends out there. Fighting for him and Minho.

"We don't have much time, left. Gotta put him under." He hears one female doctor, spit out at her male counterpart.

He fiddles with his syringe. One he snuck from their supply table. "Just take it nice 'an easy, kid." Closer he gets. Ready to cover his face, with that damned surgical mask.

Three.

Two.

Cries escape the doctor's lips. That syringe's jabbed into his left arm, Elliot made sure he could feel the needle just like they had to. "Oh shut up," he muttered, hearing the female doctor shout for back up.

"Don't make us use these." There's a click behind him. A woman lifts her rocket launcher, right at Elliot. "You have zero move for error, one false move and that's it."

He slowly raised his hands up. A smirk on his face.

"Think dying's funny, brat?" One man snapped.

"No. Rather, you two are the ones who better-."

Yells sounded from behind. In comes Minho, flying into the female guard first. Sending her against the wall, out like a light. Elliot leg sweeps the male guard, the gun fumbles from his hands. Right into Elliot's.

They looked at one another. Breathless, but grinning. "Come on, Thomas and the guys are waiting."

"Did I ever tell you, how hot you look holding that launcher?"

"Now's NOT the time."

Crashes and gunshots echoed all around. No matter where they went, Elliot could see chaos as more kids are rescued from their prisons.

Elliot picked up a lone gun, firing his own rounds with quick precision. Right through their chests sending them in a spasm of movement from the electric bolts. Minho was at his side. Sometimes they'd switch. He'd hold a gun. Elliot would bark out, the instructions. Minho would toss it, back to Elliot.

Another guard could be seen up ahead. "Another shuck-face…perfect timing-."

"Thomas?!"

Startled, the 'guard' looked their way. Elliot didn't know how, he just knew it had to be him. A set of dark hair was revealed. And doe brown eyes. They stared for what felt like, the longest time. Thomas to Minho and to Elliot.

Edgar shot at another oncoming guard, heading for them. He looked over his shoulder, with his eyes smiling in relief and that of seriousness. "Hate to break this up, but we've gotta get moving."

   "You can reunite later, mates." Newt chimed. Shooting another.

Trapped like rats they were in a room, barricaded. Elliot's eyes widen when someone, tried using a razor cutter against the steel. "Shit….Tom…Now what?" Edgar cursed.

He looked at that massive window behind. Then back at them. "No…No way."

"Minho, Newt."

Grabbing a chair, they threw it against the glass. It shattered upon impact, shards fell straight down into a watery area below. "Death by drowning…great." Elliot muttered, screaming as he fell after them.

Wind rushed through his hair, flailing his arms. He plunged into the cold water, it stings upon impact. Someone, he could only assume it to be Newt who was right beside pulled him up to the surface. Grabbing hold of his waist.

Their hair matted against their heads, they looked to find Janson glowering down high atop from where they jumped.

"Ah. Tom…may I?"

He could see Thomas ready to give 'The Bird'. Having a different idea in mind. "Suck on _that_ , WICKED!"

His shout echoed for all in that area to hear. Thomas, Newt, Minho and Edgar cheered him on, before finally climbing out.

 

 

 


	21. City of Fire

They moved like thieves in the night, under cover of darkness. The cool air around them soothed Elliot's wounds, given by Janson.

But this pain he felt failed in comparison as to poor Newt. Veins protrude out of his neck. Darker in color. He's beginning to vomit more, with each step taken.

 He worries his lip, feeling Minho clean his bloodied forehead with a rag given by Gally. Watching as Thomas comforts their friend. Their brother. "…Doesn't have much long, looks like."

 Gally says this with a thoughtful frown. All thought back, to Edgar.

 Yells and gunfire echoed through the night. The city burns before them. "Reminds me of those poems you'd read to us." Minho uttered. Still trying to make light, of their grim situation.

 Elliot cracks a small smile. Chuckling. "Surprised you lot actually listened…"

 Embers roared up into the air. Hordes of furious citizens storm the streets, as buildings began to crumble. "This is going to hell. Quick." Gally motioned them along. Thomas carried Newt all that way, despite his weak protests.

 His lips bleed black, creating streaks on the sidewalks as they came to an alley. Gasping for needed breath. His face had never looked more ashen. "Just bloody leave me here. I'm gonna die anyway." He croaked out.

 "Never leave a Glader behind," Thomas said firmly. When light catches just right, tears could be see shimmering forth. "Not after everything we've been through."

 "As if you can carry me through these streets, with all that shit going on. Just leave me here." His coughs became worse. Elliot didn't have to feel for his heart. He knew it was fading.

 The sound of a Berg whirring stated, Jorge had arrived. It hovered inches from where they are. Thomas took hold of Minho's arm. "Minho! Just run to Brenda and get that serum from her! We can cure Newt with that!"

 "Come on, you heard the man!" Gally shouted, as Minho looked his friend in the eyes.

 "Don't you dare die on me. Alright?"

 Newt gave a weak smile. Nodding once. Edgar could be seen as the hatch doors open, revealing Jorge calling out to them. Vince had control of it. Buildings continued to fall around them. "We have to go back…the serum." Elliot panted out. Waving for his sister. "Brenda!"

 Vince shouted out that they had to leave. "There's no time left!"

 "Where's Thomas?!" Brenda hollered.

 "He's with Newt, waiting for that serum." Elliot repeated panting harshly.

 "We can't go back for them. It's too late. Wicked will get us!" Vince retorted.

  Edgar spoke up. Loud and like that of a general. "We're NOT leaving. Brenda. Can you get to him in time?"

 "Lead me to them."

 They couldn't hear Vince. It's as if his words have fallen on deaf ears. _Newt…hang on. We're coming!_ Their feet pound against the pavement. The Earth shook beneath their feet. Blood pounds in his ears, as Elliot, Minho and Gally led them to Newt and Thomas's location. He didn't know what to expect in all honesty, at that time. With that serum in hand, he felt, perhaps they had just that smidgen of a chance.

 Edgar's the first to see him. His face at once contorts, into what could only be described as sheer grief. "No…" he whispered.

 Edgar's eyes widen. His trembling hands, are ice against Newt's cheek. Turning his head at an angle, to face him. "James…Newt….No…" his lips quivered. Stroking his dry hair. It felt like sandpaper now.

 Brenda covered her mouth. The body was only there for ten minutes, but it's so rotted. Elliot closed his eyes. Biting his lip. Minho shook his head, swallowing hard. Frypan collapsed behind Edgar. Staring in disbelief.

 The tears flow like waterfalls down Edgar's face. He never did like crying in front of others. They let him be for now, until Gally placed a hand upon his shoulder. "C'mon...we can't-." 

 “Thomas? Can you hear me? I need you to listen to me. I know you have no reason to trust me, but I need you to come back.” Teresa's voice came through over an intercom.  

 “Thomas, there’s a reason Brenda isn’t sick anymore. It’s you. Do you understand?”

 “They aren’t sick because you healed them. They don’t have to be the only ones. I can still save Newt…All you have to do is come back and this will all finally be over. Please. Just come back to me. I know you’ll do the right th-“

 She's cut off.

 But he gets it.

 "I'm going back…." Thomas choked out. "I have to."

 "Let me go with you," Elliot spoke up. Drying his eyes. "Please…Tom."

 "Elliot…"

 Minho of course would speak. His chest rose and fell, the fire's heat could be seen across his face. "Min…I'm sorry. I have to do this." He said, as Minho approaches him. "Thomas can't do this alo-."

 The kiss given knocks his breath away. Elliot couldn't remember, when he kissed like this. With such energy and raw passion. Time appeared to have slowed around them.

 "I'll be waiting…Greenie." Minho gave a grin only he could have. Looking Thomas's way. "I don't think it needs to be said?"

 Thomas grins back. Shaking his head. "No way…come on, Eli."

  

 

 

 


	22. Finale

It seemed like eternity when they make it back to WICKED. Several flights of stairs had to be walked. The heat plus adrenaline caused sweat, to drip from Elliot's face when their destination is reached. Only one person stood in their way.

 "…Minister Paige." Elliot whispered. Fingers tremble at his sides.

 Thomas's face glares right into hers. It never occurred to Elliot, how…old she truly looked. Frail.

 But, before she can speak her white uniform is stained in crimson. Blood pushes past her lips. Her hand seems to reach out, when her legs gave way. She collapsed right into his arms. A faint smile still upon her lips. “You look so much, like your father…my son.”

 Elliot doesn't have to look up, to see who shot her.

 It's Janson. Veins run along his neck just like with Newt. His gun smokes at the end. "Shit…He's got it to," Elliot realized out loud. Something sharp struck him from behind.

 When they come to, he can see Janson. His teeth barred, like a wild animal's Elliot tried to kick out only upon discovery he can't. His legs and arms are bound together in a chair. In another room, Teresa strapped an IV to an unconscious Thomas's arm. Drawing his blood.

 "You killed her." He hissed.

  "Isn't that what you wanted?"

   "You're the one that should be dead." Elliot bit out.

   "Ava's death is most unfortunate, but, you should know me by now Elliot. I'm picky who I choose to hold as a friend." Janson paced back and forth across the room. Hands folded behind his back. "She's but a leech. Only sought to drain you of all you had. It should be a fortune to you, you're in my care."

 Elliot bit down on his thumb, when he tried running it across his bottom lip. Fingers itching to gain hold of the blade tucked in his pocket.

 Janson 'tskd'. Seeming to resist smacking him. "You should not, have done that…I've been nice for far too long, with you. I've watched you grow up. Took under my wing. I became your friend and mentor…and this is how you repay me."

 "Shuck…off."

 Fingers are laced through his hair. Janson grins like a Crank would. And he forces Elliot, into a bruising kiss. He pushed harder this time. One hand fumbled around, as Janson gripped his other. Elliot screamed when his neck is bit into, tearing at the flesh.

 Janson only released when a needle was forced, into his back. Just above his shoulders. He howled upon impact, causing the Cranks behind their glass to go mad.

 Ripping out of his bindings, Elliot grabbed a chair, throwing it into the Crank's window. Blood pounds in his ears as he stepped back. His eyes wide, watching them tear Janson apart.

**~xxxxx~**

He's certain of it, they're going to die this time.

 They've avoided death for so many years now. It's only a matter before he caught up finally. They say your life really does flash before your eyes. Elliot can see it, when he finds himself back in The Glade again.

 Everyone's smiling. Him and Chuck and Minho are laughing, over something his brother said. Minho. Gods. What he wouldn't give, to see him now. If there's one thing he's thankful, to WICKED for…it's for steering him, into him.

 Elliot looks over when Thomas and Teresa kiss. A bitter smile crosses his face. She knows she'll never see him again. This is why…

 Engine blades whir above them.

 "Vince! Open the hatch now!" Minho ordered. Wind whipped through his hair.

 A groan from Frypan sounds as Edgar managed a small grin. "Not with the whistling! Have mercy on our eardrums, man!"

 Minho didn't care. With his thumb and index finger, he blew. The sharpest and longest he's whistled.

 Down below, they heard it. Loud and clear.

 Elliot's eyes lit up, waving them down. "Eli go!" Thomas, despite his bleeding side and Teresa help him up first.

 So close.

 So close.

 Yes!

 Thomas and Teresa held onto his legs, hoisting him up when Newt finally latches on.

 "Thomas!" Minho at once stepped close to the hatch's edge, stretching out his arm completely once they're close. Ignoring the charred smells around him. Their hands kept touching and slipping away so much, he wanted to scream.

  "Teresa, take it-!" Elliot struck his hand out. "There's not enough time!"

 She has a sad smile on her face. Like an angel standing amidst their hellish world. Thomas's heart shattered that night. Everything fell apart. Teresa's leg slipped, when one part of the rooftop is destroyed. She was looking at Edgar all that time, tears of his own fell as he lost his sister once more.

 Her eyes are still open when she falls, into the inferno.

 Thomas called for her. Vince has to keep him, from going over. Elliot buried his face, in Minho's shoulder. Blood still ran down his neck. It's only just now noticed, when Brenda's face contorts into sheer horror. "Oh my boy...my boy..." Collin's wept, after embracing him next. 

 He looks up at Minho with a half lidded eyes. And a weak grin, across his face.

 Darkness took over his vision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's one more left guys: The Epilogue. I had another version of this, that I liked so much but unfortunately I had laptop problems and did not think to back it up before hand. But I hope I cleared some things up. Collins is Elliot's father and Ava, was his mother. She knew about Janson's obsession with him, so she thought sending him into The Glade could keep him safe, I wanted to humanize at least her and one other a bit. 
> 
> As for Teresa and Edgar, I made them not full siblings with Edgar being German /I'm unsure what Teresa's ethnicity is/ to have him adopted as her little brother. 
> 
> If you have any more questions or theories of your own, send them away.


	23. The End

His eyes flutter open come morning. Curtains from his hut's window flutter from an ocean breeze. It feels as if he's back in The Glade again. But the bed this time is soft. As if he's floating on air.

 The side burns like hell still. He figures it's probably due, to the treatment. Ever so slowly he makes way, when he hears knocking on his front door. He opens it just a crack. And finds Brenda standing there. With a little smile across her face.

 "How're we feeling?"

 "Tired…sore. Where is everyone?"

 "Vince is making a speech about new life here, blah, blah blah. Y'know. Typical stuff. C'mon, wait until they see you're doin' alright!"

 Chipper as ever.

 She led him towards the gathering place by that big monument. A stone statue of names for those they lost, through the years. "Hey, guys, lookit what I dragged out of bed." Brenda called. Heads turned at once away from Vince's toast to new beginnings.

 Minho and Thomas stood up first. Brenda grinned, biting her inside cheek. Jorge nodded in approval.

 It's Elliot.

 He's alive.

 Teresa's serum pulled through for him. "ELLIOT!" Cries of relief echo all around. They bombard him with hugs. Brenda kissed both his cheeks, sobbing that he's okay. That he's really okay. Frypan gives a big bear hug next. Elliot always liked his hugs the best. His little sister, Mariah is beside him. The biggest grin plastered across her face.

 It turned out she was the one, who visited Minho all that time.

 Harriet, Sonya and Aris take over.

 Then Gally. Vince. Edgar.

 And him.

 Minho didn't just hug him. He kissed him. With raw, burning passion. Cupping Elliot's face in his hands.

 Paradise, never felt so good.

_Ten years later_

The island bustled with life. Just like Vince promised. A single school had been built, a hospital later. They had Gally and Edgar to thank for that, Edgar being the architecture designer. "Dad…"

 Minho and Elliot glance down, at their two children. Biological they are not. But, family doesn't mean blood after all. One is a little boy. His hair an amber shade, under the sun. Wavy. Sea green eyes with freckles on his face.

 The girl beside him isn't at all nervous. Her brown and blue eyes *Elliot supposed that's how, his connection with Juliet began*, are lit up in excitement. Bouncing on her heels.

 "What's up, James?" Minho raised a brow. "I thought you were excited, about your first day."

 "I am…but, I'm worried…what the other kids…." He trailed off. And at once, Elliot understood.

 Having two parents of the same gender, can be hard on a child. Other children. Those, who have a mum and a dad just don't comprehend it. Elliot knelt down in front. Taking James's smaller hand in his. Smiling ever soft. "I know you're scared. And…I can't say 'You'll be fine', because I don't know that as truth. But. I do know, you are so loved, James…you and Juliet, are safe with Minho and I.

 We won't let anyone hurt you, ever again. That's something to consider."

 James cracked a smile. Nodding once. "I guess…they do have, Min to fear."

 "Damn shuckin' right they do," Minho flexed one of his arms. "Just wait, until they see these guns."

 Elliot resisted rolling his eyes. Juliet giggled behind her hand. "Yeah, Jamie," she chirps. "Papa Min'll scare the bullies away. Now come on, I really wanna see our school already!"

 "Okay, okay sis! Bye, we love you!"

 Newt and Edgar could be seen taking their adopted child up, into the building. Elliot couldn't help, but feel heartbroken over the orphaned children. There were so many, after they took down WICKED.

 Tears welled up in his eyes. Not from that.

 "Stop…" Minho swallowed. "It'll only be, for a few hours today…."

 "I know…I know. Tryin' to hold it in, here."

 "Really hard isn't it?" Thomas's voice chimed in. Walking over with Brenda, drying his own eyes. Thomas and Brenda didn't look any better.

 "Teresa's face will haunt me forever." Thomas sighed, rubbing his neck.

 "C'mon, it won't be so bad you big babies," Brenda rolled her eyes. Sniffling softly after. She let her hair grow a bit, these ten odd years. "Jorge's gonna be with them. Same for Mariah…"

 That was true. She couldn't have been more right. WICKED wasn't the one, teaching them this time. Their children would not have, their same fears so many years ago…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it. I thank all who took their time to read this, any comment received truly means a lot <3 Or a kudos. I had a lot of fun writing for this wonderful series, maybe someday I'll work on another one. While I still love fanfiction, I've taken an interest in original fiction lately /though that's pretty tricky sometimes heh/. 
> 
> I hope to see this fandom again! Bless all once more, who took their time to take a look at this.

**Author's Note:**

> Completely re-written from my original idea over the summer. I never like to keep it too close to the movie/book plot and I wanted more Minho/Elliot so....here you are. It's been a pain to write, but the kind I don't mind too much. My muse for TMR has been pretty much shot, as it is for most apocalyptic series, but I don't like keeping you for too long.


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